You Owe Me
by njborba
Summary: Steve thinks he's finally ready for a future with Catherine, but nothing goes as planned.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Hawaii Five-0_.

Note: I started writing this just after episode 4.02 aired so I apologize for any overlap, but I'm fairly certain the rest of this tale will not coincide much with what we see on the show. Please, enjoy!

* * *

**You Owe Me  
****Part 1**

By  
N. J. Borba

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The gentle, soothing crash of waves greeted her upon waking.

Catherine slowly opened her eyes and focused in the dimly lit living room of the McGarrett family home where she found herself curled up on the sofa. The cozy beach house was a place she'd come to think of fondly as a home away from home. Not that there were many places she'd ever thought of as home other than base housing or a berth on a ship. A lifetime spent following her father's naval career around the world had rolled into her doing the very same thing. Catherine had never settled anywhere she could truly call home.

She yawned as her eyes greeted the smiling face of Kamekona's shrimp symbol. The face was slightly rumpled, parts of him disappearing in to the folds of jersey cotton. But she could still make out the words: Honolulu Shrimps, in red block lettering. Catherine smiled as her gaze shifted upward to the shirt's owner. Steve had his head resting against the back of the soft-brown leather sofa. He was seated mostly upright, though relaxed and clearly asleep by the gentle intake and exhale of breath she could hear through his slightly parted lips.

Tendrils of memory flooded back, covering the day's events. Grace had hit a grand slam to center field that had won the game for the Shrimps, which had equaled a loss for her Navy Brats. Catherine had been thrilled for the little girl, though, a young woman whom she'd come to think of lovingly as a niece. After the game there'd been a huge celebration at Kamekona's shrimp truck, later drinks with Steve, Chin and Danny. After which she and Steve had headed home and forgone showers or changing in favor of watching TV.

Their TV watching, however, had turned swiftly into a nap on the sofa. But the soft TV glow still flickered in the room, though the volume had been muted.

The warm weight of Steve's right hand pressed against her forehead caused Catherine to close her eyes again. His left hand rested softly against her thigh as she lay curled on her side against him, head upon his lap, legs outstretched across the remainder of the sofa. Even in sleep he was keeping a close hold on her. In the last week he'd kept her close every chance he got, clingier than usual, always falling asleep with his hands somewhere upon her flesh in an attempt to keep her nearby.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the reason behind his closeness. She knew it was because of her abduction last week, though they hadn't spoken about it. That seemed to be one of the unwritten rules of their relationship, not talking much about the serious stuff. Often it was due to hectic work schedules, but Catherine knew there were deeper reasons, their navy backgrounds being a huge one. They lived according to the mentality of, don't speak about it unless asked a direct question.

But his few words that day at Ka'ena Point had spoken volumes. _I'm not gonna lose you_.

"You okay?" Steve interrupted her thoughts. "I know you're not asleep."

Catherine's eyes reopened upon hearing the sleepy timbre of his concerned voice. She remembered those words as well. _You okay?_ He'd asked her that question several times in a row that day at Ka'ena Point. She looked up into his gray-blue eyes and got lost in them for a moment. The thumb of his right hand lightly smoothed a ridge of slightly puckered skin high on her forehead, the tiny scar that remained from her ordeal after he'd found her at the park, hands tied and forehead bloodied.

She wore a confident smile for him. "Fine. Why? Do you want to gloat some more about today?" she tried to ease out of the past, infuse their dark memories with happier ones.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as a smile lit his face. It stared on one side and spread slowly, a sort of sly and teasing grin. "I can't help that the better team won," Steve replied.

"Is that right?" she felt sleep drifting further away as his smile shown down on her.

"Come on, Cath, you were happy for Grace, weren't you?" he probed.

She wasn't upset at him for using one of her favorite kids against her. "Yes, of course I was happy for Grace," Catherine agreed, voicing her earlier thoughts. "She did great. With no help from you or Danny," she laughed softly as she eyed him, noticing the mock look of hurt on his face. "You know, since I'm leaving active duty I won't be with the Navy Brats team next season. I was thinking maybe I could help Danny coach Grace's team," she shrugged, feeling his hand squeeze a little against her thigh. "That way I could actually root for her."

"I help Danny coach Grace's team," Steve pointed out in a mater-of-fact tone.

"Yeah…" Catherine pursed her lips, trying not to smile. "Not so much," she shook her head.

His grin remained despite her playful dig. "Not nice," Steve tickled the spot of bare leg behind her left knee and was happy to watch her squirm for a moment. He furthered the spirited moment, one hand edging toward her waist, his head dipping lower as he went in for a kiss. Steve stopped a mere breath away from her lips and suddenly paused, turned his head and glanced at the TV. "Cath, what are you watching?"

Slightly disappointed, she had to pivot and face the TV again in order to recall what was on. Catherine grinned as she spotted the program. "Hmm, I see dogs being paraded around some sort of auditorium…" she trailed off for a second, reaching for the remote to turn the volume back up. Catherine watched the end of a performance, a perfectly groomed poodle jumping through plastic hula hoops, backwards. "You know, I think it might be a dog show," she finally concluded.

"Very funny," he replied good-naturedly. "Can you not be a smart ass for two minutes and please tell me that you accidently stopped on this channel and are not really interested in watching this…" he paused again for a moment to see a man coach a Dalmatian to spin on its hind legs, "For fun?" Steve concluded with a scrunched nose.

"It's Saturday night, there's not a lot on," Catherine shrugged, interested in the show again. "Plus you fell asleep on me. And who doesn't like dogs? Remember when I told you about the dog I had when I was a kid?" she could see the contemplative look on his face, the one she read as him trying to recall if she had indeed told him about the dog, which then turned in to him worrying that she'd be upset if he'd forgotten. "I named him Cowboy," she tried to further jog his memory.

"That name doesn't ring any bells, but I know he was a…" Steve could tell she was certain he'd forgotten. "Yellow Lab," he remembered. "It was after midnight on Christmas Eve when six-year-old Catherine snuck downstairs to see what Santa had left her. But there were no Santa presents under the tree so she went into the garage and discovered a puppy in a large refrigerator cardboard box behind her dad's work bench. And her parents found her there Christmas morning, curled up with the puppy," Steve concluded. The awestruck look on her face was well worth holding on to that memory for. "So this Cowboys thing has been going on for a while," he teased, recalling her poor taste in football teams.

"We were stationed at Corpus Christie at the time, and I was only six," she defended. Steve absently stroked her hair with his right hand. His other hand returned to her thigh as she spoke. "Cowboy was the greatest dog," she recalled fondly, "So friendly and smart. I taught him how to greet my dad at the door with slippers in his mouth."

Steve couldn't help smile at that comment, touched by how much she adored her dad. The one time he'd met her father, Rear Admiral David Rollins had shown Steve pictures of her ice skating and also of her on a hunting trip with the admiral when she'd been ten years old. The warrior princess, her father had called her. Steve was almost certain he'd never met a father more proud of his daughter, or more protective, except for Danny. "Cowboy moved around with you then?"

"Of course," she nodded, sighing contentedly as his right hand moved to rest against her shoulder. "We moved around a lot so there were new schools and new cities. Cowboy was my constant friend. Kind of like a… sibling."

The TV was the only sound for a short while after that, but neither of the room's occupants were paying much attention as their eyes danced with one another.

Steve thought he caught a hint of sadness in her tone at the mention of her dog being like a sibling. He knew her to be an only child so it made perfect sense to him that she'd grown so attached to a pet. He finally leaned down again, one hand against the back of her head as he drew her close and stole the kiss he'd been fishing for earlier. Their lips met, quiet desire sweeping over them. Sometimes things between them were rushed, especially if their jobs dictated only a brief reunion, as had been the case many a time the last few years. But they both appreciated the allotment of moments in which they were able to take their time.

Even though they had time now, Steve cut their embrace short. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, gazed into her dark eyes and asked, "Can we talk?"

She silently shifted to a sitting position, turned off the TV and faced him. He rarely asked to talk. Either they spontaneously found themselves talking or they participated in non-talking activities. Given his penchant for infrequent talks her thoughts jumped to all sorts of conclusions. "What's wrong?" she asked cautiously. "Is it your mom? Have you heard from Doris recently? Did something happen with Kono? Are she and Adam still safe? Is Mary in some sort of trouble?"

He reached out and placed his broad hands on her shoulders. "Not about any of that," Steve said. "Us," he finally relayed.

Her stomach flip-flopped a little, and not in a good way. Catherine had a feeling she knew exactly what he was about to bring up. "You said we were good," she made a preemptive strike. "That's why you gave me permission to take the job with Harrington."

"No. See, this is why I wanted to talk," his head shook with regret. "I never meant for that to come out as me giving you permission for something. I don't want to be that guy. I just wanted you to know that we were good and if you wanted to take the job you should because you'd be great at it. You're great at everything you do, not to mention beautiful, sexy…"

Catherine couldn't help smile. "Easy there, sailor, no need to go overboard with the compliments," she chuckled softly but hoped to resume some sort of meaningful conversation. "Steve, I just want to be sure you're not going to freak out about me and Billy working together. What we had was never really… it wasn't like you and I. It was pretty much over before it was ever a thing."

"It's fine, Cath," he assured her. "I won't think less of you if you take the job now because you know I'm okay with it."

Her eyes rolled. "Oh, jeez," she groaned with a frown. "I should've known something was up when you wanted to talk. You don't talk, you just gloat; first about the softball game and now this job with Billy. You're impossible," she tried to bat his arms away as they snaked around her waist.

"I'm the impossible one?" he scoffed.

"An impossible, overgrown, Neanderthal man," Catherine further protested his advances. "And just when I was about to tell you how glad I was to know you feel confident in me and Billy working together."

Steve held her close, though she was attempting to turn away from him. He felt rather bad when she shot him a withering look, genuinely upset over his comments. "Hey," he pulled away a little, allowing her some space. Steve was thankful when she didn't leap from the sofa. "The other day when you mentioned being happy, you just looked so… happy," he dared to reach out and caress her cheek, wishing he'd been able to better express himself. "That's all I want, Cath, for you to be happy," Steve relayed with sincerity. "I wanted to be sure this was serious for you; that it would be something to contribute to your happiness. I see now that it is. And I apologize for my Neanderthal comments."

She finally saw the truth behind his eyes as he spoke. "Apology accepted," Catherine easily forgave him. It took a lot of restraint for her to not say out loud that the one thing that truly made her happy was being with him. It seemed far too sappy a thing to declare. And if there was one thing Steve McGarrett was not, it was sappy.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, noticing her far-off look.

Catherine wasn't sure why her thoughts suddenly spiraled back to her abduction, but she still felt foolish for having gotten caught that day. Her car trouble and the tow truck that just miraculously appeared at that exact time, it had all been far too coincidental. And if she'd been thinking clearly she would have smelled a trap. But her thoughts had been filled with worry for Steve that day. She realized they were always filled with worry for him, even though she knew better than anyone how capable he was of taking care of himself.

With as few words as possible, she attempted to relay her feelings. "Nothing's wrong, I…" her breath hitched with emotion. "I just don't know what I'd do without you," Catherine whispered. For a moment, as his eyes turned contemplative, she feared telling him that had been worse than the sappy thought she'd had earlier.

"You'll never have to find out," he assured her, tenderly cupping her face before pressing his lips against hers.

Closing her eyes and giving in to his touch, Catherine was fairly certain their exchange just now was the closest either of them had ever come to saying I love you to one another.

000

With Danny in his wake, Steve powered through the throng of shoppers.

The ubiquitous Hawaiian sun hung brightly above them as they maneuvered through the open air shopping market that was mostly a strip mall. Shops of all sorts stood in a line like staunch soldiers facing their daily tasks with an ease of familiarity. Their exteriors of neutral colors reflected the sandy beach that resided a few blocks away. A narrow, pale blue awning adorned one shop in particular. That was the one Steve had aimed himself toward, heart pounding as the task ahead of him was causing doubts to swirl in his mind.

"What is this, where are you going in such a hurry?" Danny asked as he marched behind his partner.

"I'm not in a hurry," Steve shook his head.

"Really?" Danny was not convinced, having been awoken early and then focused to pick up and drive his practically mute friend to a shopping center. "So this military quick-step, this is what you consider not being in a hurry? This is normal for you?" Danny inquired.

Steve shrugged but said nothing.

Danny did his best to remain unruffled as was usually the case when dealing with his irascible partner. "So what's the deal, we have a case here?" he asked, spotting the jewelry store sign above the blue awning just before Steve opened the door. "What went down here, some sort of a heist? How much did they get? Was anyone hurt in the robbery?" Danny's slew of questions continued unanswered. "This place looks pretty clean, very clean. We miss the crime scene already? Any information on the guys who did it?"

"Danny, we're not here on a case," Steve finally responded, looking around and feeling rather out of place in the brightly lit and highly polished surroundings of the jewelry store. "It's Sunday, we have the day off," he added, headed toward one of the shiny glass cases by the window.

"We do? News to me," Danny's brow creased as he eyed his partner, finally noticing Steve's uncomfortable stance as he peeked in one of the cases. "What are we doing here then?"

"I need a ring," Steve answered, doing his best to play it cool.

"A ring?" Danny questioned the odd statement. "Interesting. I never really pictured you as the ring type, but okay. I guess you could be nearing a mid-life crisis of some sort. Usually guys go for a car in that case. We can go look at cars if you want, get you a nice red sporty one with a convertible top. Maybe find you a girl half your age," he rambled. "Although then Catherine would probably kill me and I have a daughter to think about."

Steve turned to face the shorter man. "I just need a ring, Danny," he said before making his way to the main counter, a U-shaped embankment of glass cabinets. At the center of which stood a tall woman with jet black hair pulled back and tired at the base of her neck.

"Sure, whatever you say," Danny continued to glanced at some of the rings in a glass cabinet by the window. "None of these look very manly. No Super Bowl rings, no class rings…"

As Danny continued to ramble, the woman at the main counter smiled at Steve. "I'm Nina," she introduced herself and then looked over her shoulder at Danny. "Your partner seems a little uptight," she noticed.

"Yeah, that's kind of his thing," Steve smiled sweetly for the woman. "So… we're here for an engagement ring," he managed to get the words out without too much difficulty.

"We are?" it was Danny who seemed the most surprised. His eyes widened as he glanced over his shoulder at Steve. "That's news to me, too," he winked at the female clerk.

"I take it the ring is for your partner?" the jewelry clerk asked of Steve.

He thought it was a little odd that she'd refer to Catherine as his partner, though he'd gone that route before as well. It had taken him a while to finally admit she was more than just a friend and that what they had going was more than just a thing. It had taken the memory of his dear friend, Freddie, telling him not screw things up with Catherine. It had taken his mother asking Catherine to lie for her. It had taken a crazy man abducting Catherine to make him realize it.

"Yeah," he smiled, though he was more nervous than the last time he'd walked in to North Korea.

"Have the two of you been together long?" Nina asked.

"Uh, several years," Steve answered. "Off and on, it was kind of a long distance thing for a while."

Danny sauntered over. "Reason number one hundred and one why I don't like this island, have you seen the price of some of these rings? The mark-up here is ridiculous. I had a buddy back in Jersey, got me a great deal on Rachel's ring. Real deal, too."

The clerk eyed Danny with an oddly contemplative look for a moment. "You were married before? To a woman?"

"And let me tell you, that did not end well," Danny's head shook.

Nina nodded, a bit sympathetically. "Yes, I can imagine, since you're obviously…" she trailed off and pulled out a large tray of rings. "Are you looking for something specific; gold, white gold? Sterling is also quite popular again these days."

"Definitely gold," Steve and Danny replied at the same time.

The woman grinned and began to pull out some of the gold bands.

"This is kind of impulsive, don't you think?" Danny voiced his concern. The more he thought about it the odder and more out of character it seemed for Steve to suddenly be in a ring store and using the word engagement. "You don't do impulsive, unless it means jumping out of a window to tackle a guy in a pool," he remarked with unmasked skepticism. "How long have you had this plan under wraps?

"Decided this morning," Steve replied curtly. He looked to the sales clerk again. "Definitely gold, diamond, something simple and tasteful, delicate," he thought about the other jewelry he'd seen Catherine wear over the years and that description pretty much fit all of it.

She nodded her understanding. "And will the two of you want matching engagement rings, or just the one for now?"

"Just the one," Steve replied.

Danny noticed a strange, somewhat judgmental, look on the clerk's face just before she nodded and went about showing Steve more rings. "What's with this lady, she seem a bit slow to you?" Danny asked, keeping his voice low and waving a hand at the woman as he spoke right in front of her. "Have you not been in this business long?" he finally asked her outright. "Typically only women wear engagement rings."

With a slightly shocked look, the clerk recovered quickly and eyed Danny. "Typically, yes," Nina hesitantly agreed. "Though in your situation…" she paused a second before her eyes widened. "Oh, so you'll be the one wearing the engagement ring then?"

"Say what now?" Danny's face paled.

"I take it you're the more, how shall I say… _feminine_ one in this partnership?" Nina ventured.

"This partnership?" Danny squeaked out the words. He and Steve shared a confused glance for a second and then immediately jumped apart.

"No, no, no," Steve was shaking his head. "This is my partner," he motioned to Danny, "As in, we work together. The ring is for my girlfriend, _female_ girlfriend. A real, live, actually born-that-way female. Trust me on that."

Danny was almost offended but he grinned as he moved back to Steve's side. "So this means you're dumping me? Are you trying to say that what we had together wasn't real? I'm not woman enough for you?" he deadpanned.

Steve elbowed him in the side. "Would you knock it off?"

A bark of laughter escaped Danny's lips.

"So the two of you are not a couple?" the clerk sought clarification.

"Nope," Danny confirmed. "Definitely not a couple. He's too high maintenance for me," he chuckled again.

"Why are there so many?" Steve was too busy staring at the vast array of rings to be bothered further by Danny's jokes. "I just want something… I don't know, maybe a little different from the norm, meaningful," he sighed. Steve realized he really wasn't sure what he wanted, certainly not in an engagement ring, and also not from his relationship with Catherine.

"Sir, we can have any ring here in the store engraved, personalized to your liking," Nina suggested.

Steve shook his head. "Not what I meant."

"You'll have to forgive him," Danny stepped in. "You see, he's taken years to get to this point right here where we are now," Danny's right index finger was extended and made a spiral movement in the air above the ring case. "He still barely calls the woman his girlfriend. Just thought I should warn you, you know, because we could be here a while." Danny glanced at his friend again and watched him for a moment. "Just be sure," Danny said.

With a softly crinkled brow, Steve shrugged. "Sure?"

"Yeah," Danny pressed his hands against the glass case and lightly drummed his fingers. "Sure that you're doing this for the right reason."

"What wrong reason would there be to marry a woman?" Steve asked.

"Uh, you want a list? Cause I could certainly get you a list," his partner looked at him like he was a complete idiot. "People get married all the time for the wrong reason, for money, for the kid's sake, for sex, for… jeez, are you kidding me with this?"

Steve shrugged again. "I was actually thinking more of a wrong reason for Catherine and me to get married. Which seemed to be implied in whatever you were trying to say," he waved a hand at Danny, clearly searching for more of an explanation.

"Okay, okay…" Danny sucked up his courage as Nina gave them some space in favor of helping a new customer who had entered the store. "You're right, can't fool you. I did have a specific wrong reason in mind. His name is Green-Eyed monster, Steven."

With wide, uncomprehending eyes, Steve stared at his friend and partner. "Danny, have you lost it? I mean for good this time?"

"Billy Harrington," was all Danny said in response.

Despite thinking of his and Catherine's relationship as secure, that name stung. He didn't want to be that sort of person, petty and jealous. Harrington was a good guy, a Navy guy. Steve honestly didn't think he was the sort to steal another man's girlfriend. "You think I'm doing this because I'm jealous of Harrington working with Catherine?"

"No," Danny countered. "I do not want to think that, but… I have to wonder. Mr. Super SEAL suddenly ready to settle down and be married?" he left the question hanging for a moment. "Tell me I'm wrong," Danny finally offered, his arms outstretched. "Tell me I'm completely bat-shit off base with this one and I'll gladly back down," he concluded.

Steve didn't bother to think it over any further before he replied, looking his friend in the eye. "You are completely bat-shit off base, Danny," he maintained.

Danny nodded and took his defeat gracefully, though he still had his doubts. "Then I'm very happy for you, man. Now… let's pick out a ring."

000

Soft rays of light filtered through the white curtains behind Steve's brass bed.

Catherine's arms stretched outward beneath the pillow under her cheek as she woke. She vaguely recalled Steve carrying her upstairs to bed the night before. After their brief talk, which had actually yielded a slightly more solid foundation for their future, they'd made love before falling asleep. With those happy memories in place Catherine lifted her head from the pillow, belly still in contact with the mattress, and scanned his side of the bed only to find it empty.

She reluctantly crawled out of bed, pleasantly achy from last night's activity. After throwing on one of Steve's t-shirts she wandered downstairs and found coffee and goji berry energy bars laid out in the kitchen. A small piece of white paper was propped against the coffee pot. Seeing her name written in Steve's handwriting she flipped it over and read, "Sorry I left so early. Plan on dinner tonight, I have somewhere special to take you, I promise this time," she ran a finger over the scrawled letter 'S' at the bottom of the note.

"I'll believe that when it happens," she smiled to herself.

The buzzing of her cell could be heard coming from the next room. Catherine moved into the living room and grabbed it off the coffee table. She sighed when she spotted the caller, not the person she'd been hoping to hear from. "Hey, Billy. I'm still on the Navy's payroll, remember?" she tried to keep her tone light, still not entirely convinced that working with the man was a good idea. But the job prospect was more than she could've hoped for straight out of her Navy retirement.

"_I know, and I also realize it's a Sunday. But I really wanted to show you something_," his reply came. "_Can you meet me at ten this morning? I'll text you the address_."

With a somewhat reluctant nod, she answered, "Sure, I'll be there."

"_Thanks, Catherine. You're the best_," he ended the call.

Not needing to be back at Pearl-Hickam until Monday morning, Catherine had been hoping for a leisurely day of surfing. Of course that plan had included Steve, who seemed to be missing in action. So, an hour later, she found herself at the address Billy had texted her. Catherine glanced around the entrance, unsure if she'd gotten the correct information from her new boss. She admired the old building for a moment. It's distinctly arched windows and terra cotta ornamentation were beautiful, but she'd driven by the landmark building on Merchant Street several times before and never noticed any business offices available in the structure other than the architectural firm that had been housed there for several years.

"I didn't realize this place had room for other offices," she spoke her thoughts to Billy as he approached her on the main floor lobby.

"Neither did I," he replied, ushering her toward the elevator, "Until my old friend, Martin Chase, told me about it. He works for the architecture firm here. We were having a couple of beers last week and Marty mentioned the top floor being vacant. Two days ago I managed to negotiate a rental deal," Billy smiled, clearly proud of himself.

"Lucky," she commented as they rode to the sixth level and entered directly into an open floor plan. There were no walls, just a few evenly spaced columns connecting to the ornate ceiling. All of the moldings and windows looked original and well preserved. "This place has got to be expensive," Catherine said as she further explored the space. "Hasn't it been on the historical register for years? I doubt we'll be able to get permits for office walls."

Billy Harrington nodded and flashed his school boy charming smile. "Don't worry about the money or permitting," he insisted. "I've got all the up-front costs covered and I have some contacts that will help. Before long you'll be helping this place draw in enough cash to keep us very comfortably retired someday. Now, look at this," he pressed one hand against her shoulder and guided her toward the north wall. "We'll put in a nice big private room back here where it's darker, for all the fancy equipment I plan to buy you."

Shrugging off his hand as best she could without pointing out how inappropriate it was, she did her best not to run all the way home to Steve and tell him he was right to be leery of her working with Harrington. "You mean _us_," Catherine tried to correct him. "This is a business and we'll be working together," she noted. "It's not like you're buying me gifts."

"Right," he nodded. "No, of course I didn't mean it like that. I just want you to have the best." Billy grinned again. "Catherine, I know to most people this probably seems absurd. The two of us working together when we once dated," he sighed. "But I've put that behind us. I believe we'll work great together," he eyed her for a moment, hoping she'd be in agreement. "Listen, if you're not comfortable with any of this please tell me the truth now and we can end this deal before it even begins," Billy offered.

Those words helped her remember the Billy Harrington she'd first met, polite, honest and caring. Catherine had only ever known him to be a good person and great at his job. "No, Billy. I think we can both make this work," she nodded.

"Yeah, you sure?" he cracked another smile as he watched her nod. "That's great," Billy stated as he wrapped his arms around her in a huge bear hug.

000

Steve stood on the sidewalk and nodded as he listened to the man on the other end of his cell phone.

"Yep, I got it. Thanks, Chin," Steve ended the call and watched as Danny moved toward him with one meat and vegie kabob in each hand. "Nice, glad you got portable food because we just snagged a case," Steve informed his partner as he took one of the sticks, bit off a grilled tomato and nodded toward the new black Camaro that they'd parked earlier. "You drive," he instructed before sliding into the passenger seat.

Still a bit dumbfounded by his partner's declaration, Danny got into the driver's seat and held his lunch in his teeth before starting the vehicle. "Did something happen in the ten minutes it took me to get lunch?" Danny asked. "You fell and bumped your head or something. Why is it that I'm allowed to drive my own car twice today?"

Holding his half eaten kabob, Steve shrugged. "I'm eating. We've got a body washed up on the north shore. Let's roll."

Danny was torn for a moment, his stomach growling as he revved the engine. A case usually took precedence over anything, but when he was hungry he was hungry. He looked forlornly at the kabob in his hand then reluctantly passed it off to Steve before pulling the Camaro out into the flow of traffic. Before he could retrieve his lunch, Danny watched Steve take a bite of the second kabob. "Not safe to eat and drive," Steve mumbled around his mouthful.

"You're an animal, Steven," Danny lamented as he made a left turn and headed on to the highway, "A real animal."

Steve passed the rest of the kabob back to his friend and settled into his seat. He did his best not to backseat drive from the passenger seat as Danny aimed them toward the north shore. They were only ten minutes into the long drive, and finished with lunch, when every so often he caught his partner glancing over at him. "What?" Steve finally asked.

"What, what?" Danny shrugged.

"What's the look on your face?" Steve tried to clarify.

"There's no look," Danny was quick to respond. "This is just the way I look. This is my face."

"No, that right there is a look I know well," McGarrett retorted. "It's the look that tells me you want to say something that you think will piss me off. But that normally doesn't stop you from saying it," Steve observed.

Danny's mind shifted to the last three years of his life in Oahu with Steve as his partner. He hadn't started to think of Steve as a friend until he'd finally seen a small glimpse of humanity in the man. That humanity had first truly arrived in the form of a goofy I-got-some-last-night smile. Over the years, Danny had seen Steve's goofy smile mature; from silly to smitten, and eventually into a full blown I'm-in-love smile. All due to one person, a woman named Catherine. "Really, none of them were right?" he finally asked his friend.

Steve sighed, knowing exactly what his partner was referring to. "I looked at all of those rings at least three times, Danny. None of them jumped out at me and yelled Catherine."

"Oh, you want something to jump out at you," Danny mocked. "I see, very interesting. You want to know what I think?"

"Not so much," Steve's answer was swift.

"Funny. Well, I think that maybe none of those rings were right because you're not really ready," Danny voiced his opinion. "You think you're ready but you're not. You, my friend, are scared of the next step. Not that I can blame you because marriage is… well, not for the faint of heart, that's for sure."

Steve sat a little straight in his seat and responded with tight lips, "I'm not scared of anything."

"Uh, huh… not buying it," Danny instantly shot him down. "See, you seem to forget that I know you. Remember about three years ago, you and I in your father's garage? You recruited me and I thought you were completely insane. A theory, by the way, which three years later has only solidified in my head. But that's really beside the point because I know you love Catherine, even though that Super SEAL, Rambo brain of yours tends to lock it down as much as possible. And then there's the whole my mother died when I was fifteen and I never really got over that, still haven't even though she's alive again."

"What are you, my shrink?" Steve sneered.

Danny visible shuttered. "Uh, no. God forbid anyone ever actually takes that job title under consideration," his head shook. "I'm just trying to point out that you, my friend, have some issues with the people you love slipping away. And I get that, I do. Your father, your mother, heck even Mary is in and out of your life all the time. And you're afraid that if you try to have something good and constant, for example, Catherine as your fiancé or wife," he paused a moment. "Then that will somehow get blown up as well."

Steve's jaw twitched as he focused his gaze on the road for a moment. "So, what if… what if I am? Scared."

Danny was nearly startled speechless at that response. "There's nothing wrong with that, Steven. Nothing at all. Completely valid fear."

Still feeling rather uncomfortable, and shocked by his own response, Steve dared to talk it out a little more. "Were you… you know, scared to ask Rachel to marry you?"

"Scared? Uh, no. Petrified actually," Danny admitted.

It seemed a little easier to get his feelings out as he spoke with his best friend, but Steve was still feeling a bit raw about the subject. "How'd you get over that?"

"That's an easy one," Danny shifted in his seat a little, both hands still on the wheel. "You see, I just had to stop and think about my life as it had been before I'd met Rachael. Then I thought about what life was like with her, and also about what the future could be like. I liked the present and future I saw a lot better than my past without her. Decision made."

The man in the passenger seat mulled over that seemingly simple explanation for a moment. "But you and Rachel's future fizzled," Steve needlessly pointed out.

Danny shrugged. "So it did. Still, would not trade what we had."

"Because of Grace," Steve said. It was not a question.

"Because of Grace," Danny promptly agreed. "But even without Grace I would've made the same decision. Some things you just know."

Steve mulled that over for a moment. "But it didn't work out."

"Okay, no. This has been established. Can you stop harping," Danny implored. He glanced over at his friend and realized Steve was still searching for answers. "Look, Rachael and me… well, we're not you and Catherine. Rachael couldn't handle the job, the distance, the being away at all times and not knowing what was going to happen to me. Catherine has already proven that's not an issue for her. You two had half the world between you more than once and you went on with your lives and then you ended up together again. Besides all that, the woman loves you. I know you two never say it because you've both got some weird thing going on, something like a completion maybe? I don't really know. But actions speak louder than words, my friend. She loves you. Despite your faults, of which there are plenty, I might add. She sticks by you, for whatever reason I haven't figured out," Danny smiled a little as he eyed his partner. "Anyhow, to break it down for you, yes. Second scariest thing you'll ever do is ask a woman to marry you."

"And the first?" Steve was curious.

Danny didn't have to think about the answer before he replied, "That's easy, becoming a father."

000

The body was laid out on the beach a few yards off, police surrounding the scene.

As Steve walked along the sandy shore, heavily crowded with surfers, he couldn't help think of Kono. The surf crashing upon the shore, coupled with Catherine's worry the other night that one of the things he'd wanted to talk about being Kono, caused him to think of the absent female on his team. They hadn't heard from her in over a week and although it worried him, he had faith in her ability to stay safe, to keep herself and Adam out of too much trouble until they came up with a feasible plan to deal with the Yakuza once and for all.

"Chin, Max," he greeted the medical examiner and his team member. "What have we got?" Steve asked as he crouched beside the victim, clearly female, Caucasian, dark haired. She was wearing swim attire, black board shorts and a fuchsia short-sleeved rash guard, both of which were soaked through. But Steve tried not to jump to conclusions as Danny was oft to do. "Drowning or some other COD?" he relayed the question to Max.

"My preliminary finding," Max began, speaking in his usual distinct and concise tone, "Reveal no outward sign of contusions, also no stab or gunshot wounds. Therefore I am leaning toward drowning as cause of death."

Danny nodded as he shifted his stance, hovering over the others. "But no confirmation until you run a full autopsy," he guessed.

"That is correct," Max agreed as he stood and directed his medical team to bag the body for transport.

"Thanks, Max," Steve said. "Take her in and let me know what you find as soon as possible, even if it's late tonight," he instructed, realizing he would most likely have to disappoint Catherine again by calling off their date. Not that his plans had gone well in that regard anyhow, given the lack of an engagement ring he was currently experiencing. "We got anything else?" Steve asked of Chin as they stood and scanned the shoreline.

"Just slightly more than nothing," Chin reluctantly informed his fellow Five-0 team members as they remained huddled close to Max and the victim. "Witnesses say they spotted her floating on the surface of the water shortly after daybreak. An early morning surfer pulled her in on his board. No one saw any boats, airplanes or helicopters in the area. And there was no identification on the body," Chin sighed. "Without knowing who she is I can't check nearby vehicles. Like I said, basically nothing."

"Due to the advanced bloating of the body, I'd she was out at sea for quite a while," Max put in another observance that he thought might help as he zipped up the black bag.

"How long?" Steve inquired.

"Best estimate without further testing…" the medical examiner mulled his answer, "Roughly twelve hours."

"Twelve hours?" Danny was surprised. "So, middle of the night. Maybe she was on a boat further from shore than what anyone on the beach might have seen."

"Maybe," Steve replied, not sure what to make of the case yet. "We need to ID her."

Chin nodded. "I took a picture with my cell," he relayed. "The face is terribly swollen, but it should still be enough to run facial recognition."

"Good, make that happen," Steve knew Chin would do his best. "Danny and I will stay to search the area," he relayed, "We'll meet you back at HQ later."

000

"Chin, tell me you've got something on our Vic," Steve said as he and Danny entered Five-0 headquarters nearly four hours after they'd all spoken over the victim's body.

He and Danny's shoreline search had gotten them nowhere. Not a single surveillance camera in the area had yielded any information about their victim. All of which led them to further believe she'd been out at sea somewhere via boat. But even their two dozen calls to local marinas over the course of a forty-five minute drive back to Honolulu had been a bust. There'd been no missing boats reported, no blood stains on returned boats, and not even any shady characters renting boats.

"You know I do," Chin pulled up the picture he'd taken of their female victim and displayed it for them on screen. "But I doubt you're going to like it," he warned. "Facial recognition got a hit on her DMV photo. Name is Cathleen Dugan; 34 years old, she worked as an engineering consultant and drafter at an architectural firm on Merchant Street in the central business district. Fairly low profile life. Credit card history shows run of the mil transactions, take-out, wind surfing equipment and a penchant for porcelain figurines called Hummel's," Chin shrugged in regard to the last mention and could see neither of them seemed to know what that meant either.

Steve crossed his arms as he regarded the DMV photo, noticing she was much prettier without blue, bloated skin. "Why'd you think I wasn't going to like this? Is there something I'm missing?" he wondered aloud.

With a reluctant sigh, Chin swiped his hand across the large touch screen and pulled up a document. He proceeded to swipe it onto one of the upright screens. "Hospital records show our Vic had been to the ER about three times in the last six months. Mostly minor stuff, but stiches were required twice. Still, could be wind surfing related. However, when I pulled up insurance records I found that she's covered under Naval Mutual. I then discovered an honorable discharged two years ago from service. Following that line, I found this," he tapped several icons on the screen as he spoke the next delicate words, "Apparently one of her recent romantic relationships was with Lieutenant William Harrington."

"Wait a minute," Steve felt a chill raise the hairs on his arms. "Harrington? As in the same Billy Harrington who is about to go into business with Catherine?"

A photo popped on screen showing Harrington and Dugan in formal dress at some sort of military gala.

"Yes, _that_ Billy Harrington," Chin confirmed.

The HQ double doors opened at that moment and a police officer from HPD entered. "Commander McGarrett, this was just delivered for you at the main desk," the man spoke as he handed over a 5x7 white envelope. "I didn't realize you were working on a Sunday but then I spotted Detective Williams' car so I brought this straight up."

"Thanks, Higgins," Steve said, knowing the man from past encounters. He considered tossing the envelope aside, figuring it had nothing to do with their current case, but a feeling in his gut told him to open it. When he did, the feeling turned into dread. Steve pulled out the 4x6 amateur photographs and spread them across the tech table. "What the hell is this?"

"Uh," Danny stared at the images and his mouth went dry. "That would be Harrington and Catherine," he noted. "Hugging."

Steve's glare turned on Danny. "Yeah, I got that," he snapped. "This building looks familiar, doesn't it?" his next words were directed to Chin as he stabbed a finger at one picture with a good deal of the building's exterior visible.

"Yes, I know that building," Chin nodded as he tapped several keys on the touch screen display. "Here," he pulled up a larger exterior view that matched the smaller snapshot. "It houses a…" Chin paused. "Actually it houses an architectural firm, which happens to be the same one our Vic worked for," he concluded.

Steve scooped up the pictures and shoved them back into the envelope. He was headed toward the door without a word.

"Wait up!" Danny jogged after him. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to question my number one suspect," Steve replied with a dangerous tone as he roughly pushed the door open.

* * *

**To be continued…**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Hawaii Five-0_.

**I have to admit I was pretty overwhelmed by all of your wonderfully kind comments, and not sure how to thank you properly. I figured getting part two done as quickly as possible would be the best thanks. I hope you agree. Please enjoy!**

* * *

**You Owe Me  
****Part 2**

By  
N. J. Borba

* * *

"Give me your keys," Steve demanded as he marched toward the Camaro.

Danny did his best to keep pace with the long-legged man. As they crossed the pristinely manicured front lawn toward the parking lot, Danny shook his head. "No."

"No?" McGarrett was practically fuming, but he did his best not to take it out on his friend. "Come on, Danny. Give me your keys," he didn't halt his pace until he was standing beside the vehicle. "Look, I can run back up to the office and ask Chin for his keys and he'll give them to me. Now save me some time, because I'm leaving to question our suspect one way or another. You can either come along or let me go alone. Your choice."

"Some choice. Of course I'm not letting you go alone," Danny protested. "But I think it'd be better if you didn't go at all. I can handle it, Steve," he offered. Danny eyed the unrelenting man. "If you show up and start mouthing off to Harrington things could get ugly."

"Things are already well past ugly, Danny," Steve's self-enforced mellow tone was barely keeping his emotions at bay.

"Don't you think you might be jumping to conclusions?" Danny spread his hands against the car's roof. "You need to take some deep breaths and think this through. Yes, it looks a little bad for Harrington at the moment. But to be honest those pictures were not very damning," he bravely spoke those words, though he took a slight step backward, fearing he might have to avoid the swing of McGarrett's fist. "A hand on Catherine's shoulder, no big deal," he carefully continued. "And a hug? That can also be innocently explained away. I think."

Steve's jaw twitched and his head shook. "What have you done with Danny Williams?" he asked. "Because you are not the same guy who recently told me that we shouldn't allow Catherine to take any job in a male testosterone heavy environment," he threw the words back at his friend. "And something else about rabbits?"

"Correct, yes. That was me speaking," Danny admitted to those accusations. "But you see I momentarily failed to remember that Catherine currently works, and has for what, fifteen or so years, around a lot of male testosterone? So, I was wrong. I can admit that. I think I was just being a little overly critical with everything going on between Gabby and me at the moment. But that's beside the point. The point is that maybe, just maybe, you're wrong about Billy."

Taking a second to try and calm himself down as Danny suggested, Steve finally nodded. "Yeah, sure, I could be wrong," it pained him to say those words. "But right now he's the strongest lead we've got and I'm going to talk to him. So, keys?" he held a hand out.

Still not sure it was the best idea; Danny opened the passenger side door, slid into the seat and then unlocked the driver's door.

As Steve entered the car and took the keys his partner offered, he glared at the man. "Really, you trust me so little?"

Danny shrugged. "Just didn't want to run the risk of you taking off on me." They were on the road in seconds, barreling toward Honolulu's downtown core. "I take it you know where you're going?" Danny asked his friend. All he got from Steve was a non-committal shrug. "Of course you know where you're going, how stupid of me to ask. I imagine you memorized Harrington's address the second Catherine agreed to take the job."

Steve didn't deny or confirm his partner's assumption. The remainder of their relatively short drive was made in silence. Downtown was fairly empty late on a Sunday afternoon, only a few cars and people around. They approached the eight-story apartment building that was situated on a large corner lot, and Steve drove just a little bit faster as he maneuvered through the parking garage. Once inside they took the elevator and Steve led the way until they stopped outside of unit 7G.

"What did you do, map the route here?" Danny tried to joke as Steve pressed the door buzzer.

Billy opened the large steel door and greeted his guests with a curious glance. "Commander?" he stood there in a pair of gray sweatpants, white t-shirt and socked feet. "I'm sorry to say you're not the person I was expecting to see. Detective Williams," he nodded a welcome to the man standing beside Steve and then motioned them inside.

With a critical eye, Danny perused the interior of the place without moving around much. The décor was modern, steel, concrete and granite, sparse. "You're watching the Jets game, huh?" Danny asked, noticing the players on a large screen TV in the living space. He couldn't deny feeling slightly jealous that he wasn't doing the same thing at the moment.

"Jets are winning, but I'm a 49ers fan," Billy replied cordially. "Grew up in San Francisco," he mentioned, watching the men with a serious stance. "Not to be rude, but I assume you two didn't stop by to talk about football," he observed.

"Who were you expecting to see just now when you opened your door?" Steve questioned. "Catherine, maybe?"

"No," Billy's head shook. "I saw Catherine this morning. I showed her the office space I found for us."

Steve was actually relieved by the fact that Harrington had just openly admitted to that information. It didn't lend well to Steve's case against him, though. He took a deep breath, trying to keep in mind that he'd served with Billy and always believed him to be an upstanding officer and genuinely nice guy. "We found a woman's body washed ashore this morning," he decided to play his hand.

"You need my help with a case?" Harrington concluded.

"No," Danny replied, scrolling through the pictures on his cell until he came to the one of their victim. He held it up for Billy to view.

"Lieutenant Cathleen Dugan," Steve supplied her name, realizing, not for the first time, how similar the woman's name was to Catherine's.

Billy glanced at the picture on Danny's phone, the image of her dead body at a crime scene. "Cathleen's dead?" he swallowed. "Jeez…" the man stumbled backward a little and leaned heavily against the arm of his sofa.

It was not the sort of reaction Steve had been hoping for. In fact he felt more than a little ashamed that he'd been hoping for the man to react blatantly guilty. Over the years working in the military and in law enforcement he'd come to think of himself as a pretty decent judge of character. He'd seen people lie before, plenty of times. Some of them were fairly good at it, but Billy seemed genuinely distressed by the sight of the woman's dead body. They were Navy men, not a lot got to them. But seeing a friend hurt or dead - that got to them.

"According to some digging, you knew her?" Steve wasn't entirely ready to dismiss the man. There were still too many similarities and unanswered questions for him to let his guard down with Billy. "You worked with her," he pointed out the obvious.

"Yeah, we were in Kabul together and on the Enterprise for a while. Catherine, Cathleen and I, we… we were all friends. Or at least, friendly. I mean, you work so closely with people you start to become, closer," Billy explained.

"And how close were you and Lieutenant Dugan?" Danny asked. "You dated?"

Harrington nodded. "It wasn't much of a relationship. A few dates, a diplomatic military ball when the Enterprise was docked at Beijing back in 2010." He could tell that the line of questioning was more than just simple information gathering. "Are you considering me a suspect in her murder? Because I was here this morning, most of it anyhow. As I said before I wanted to show Catherine around the place that will soon be her home away from home," the man smiled.

"Right," Steve nodded. He didn't mention the possibility that their meeting could've been a rather convenient cover to throw the police off. And it didn't go unnoticed that Harrington seemed quick to think he was a suspect. "Our medical examiner estimated time of death roughly between 10pm and midnight last night. Where were you then?" Steve realized Max hadn't actually confirmed that, but he'd go with Max's educated guesses over a lot of other people's facts any day.

"I was home by about nine last night after dinner out with a friend," the man answered without protest, or call for a lawyer. "I ended up falling asleep on the sofa shortly after midnight. Spent all night sleeping there and have the sore neck to prove it," Billy concluded.

"Anyone to verify that alibi?" Steve pressed.

"No, sir. I slept alone last night," Billy answered.

Danny noticed the way Harrington slipped into military mode as he spoke to Steve. "Maybe because your girlfriend was sleeping in the ocean," he alleged.

Billy remained relaxed in the wake of their questioning. "I'm telling you both, she was never what you'd call a girlfriend," he sighed. "Look, a few years back I gave her a contact for a job on the mainland. My friend, Martin Chase. I've known him since grade school back in California. He's an Architect at the firm on Merchant street. I suggested he could use an in-house engineer and he agreed. He ended up hiring her. Cathy and I haven't even seen each other in nearly two years, not since she left the Navy."

"Funny isn't it, how women keep leaving the Navy because of you," Steve couldn't help allowing some of his suspicion to squeeze out.

"Commander, with due respect," Billy was careful to look Steve in the eye as he spoke. "I had nothing to do with Cathleen leaving the Navy. She left because her mother got sick and she wanted to return to Oahu in order to help take care of her. And Catherine left the Navy because of _you_, not me. She wanted to be on this island full-time to be closer to you. I figured you knew that."

Steve stood down a little, suddenly feeling petty about the entire conversation so far. He knew that Dugan's death, thus far, had yielded no signs of foul play. And she deserved an honest investigation, not a witch hunt. "Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt Cathleen Dugan?" he switched tactics. "Did she ever make any enemies that you know of? Any other ex-boyfriends that might have wanted to hurt her? We know she was admitted to the ER several times in recent months."

A small smile momentarily graced Billy's chiseled features. "Cathy was a bit accident prone. She could trip over her own feet," he noted with a hint of laughter. "She grew up on Oahu but she told me she'd always been afraid to try anything like surfing. Cathy managed to break her wrist once just by jogging on the beach and tripping in the sand, came down hard and caught herself with one hand."

Despite his best effort to not think of Harrington as a suspect, Steve was noticing way too many things to write him off. The dodge of his questions. The blame being thrown back on to the victim. "You mentioned she and Catherine were friends?"

"Like I said before, we all served together on the Enterprise," Billy reiterated. "I was only there for a few years but Cathy and Catherine served together for close to five years. Cathleen was in engineering so they weren't attached at the hip or anything. They weren't best friends by any means, but yes they knew each other."

"Do you know where Catherine is now?" Steve asked.

"No, I don't," Billy's answer was swift. "Maybe she had to go to work. I'm not her boss _yet_," Harrington bit down on the last word. "Commander, if I can help you in any way with Cathy's investigation, please, let me know."

That last bit of arrogance had Steve reaching for the envelope of pictures in his back pocket. "Actually, Billy. I was wondering what you can tell me about these?" He handed over the two most important ones in which Billy's hands were in contact with Catherine.

"Are you having me followed, Steve?" the former Navy Lieutenant asked.

Again Steve noticed the way Billy answered a question with a question. The arrogance of his tone. The instant defensive nature of his posture. "Someone sent those to me, so I was about to ask if _you_ were having _Catherine_ followed?"

"Why?" Billy shrugged. "What point would I have in following Catherine?"

Danny could see the anger brewing just beneath Steve's cool exterior. "Here's an interesting reason that just popped into my head," he offered. "Let's say you wanted to get shots of the two of you in some sort of compromising position, and then you send them to Steve to make him jealous. Maybe that leads to him and Catherine breaking up so you can move in on his territory," Danny concluded. "But that's just one theory."

An audible sigh escaped Billy Harrington's lips. "I thought going to you was the right thing," he addressed Steve directly. "I figured if I was up front about the job for Catherine we could all be adults. But now I see I was wrong. I don't like being wrong about people, Commander. You always struck me as a decent guy but… those pictures show me being friendly with a friend. I really want to make a go of this business and I know having Catherine on my side will make that happen. And if you want to know the whole truth, she shrugged off my hand and my hug and told me we needed to keep things as professional as possible. I admire that about her, I've always admired her honesty and candor. But I guess I'll have to tell her the job is over because the last thing I want is to cause trouble. I swear," he declared. "And if there's a way I can help with Cathy's case then my offer is still there."

"Thanks," was all Steve managed to get out before promptly directing Danny toward the exit. They didn't speak until they reached the car. Steve sat in the driver's seat again and ran a hand over his head. The hand moved to the base of his neck and massaged the sore muscles there. "That didn't go very well."

"I don't know what to tell you, babe," Danny sighed. "He seemed very agreeable, eager to offer up any help. Okay, he was a little quick on the defensive, but that could be explained away as you hounding him. I mean it's possible I did have him pegged wrong," he glanced at his friend. "But you don't look convinced," Danny observed.

Steve shook his head. "I'm not sure what to think," he said to his partner. "Every time I tried to think of Harrington as a bad guy my gut told me otherwise. And yet I still feel like something's not right, Danny," Steve relayed his confusion.

"A woman is dead so, yes, something is definitely not right," Danny pondered. "Unless it was just an accident."

"There is always that possibility," Steve replied as he put the Camaro in gear and exited the parking garage.

Danny had to smile. "But I doubt it's the possibility we're rolling with."

"You doubt correctly," Steve concurred.

000

Catherine opened the door and smiled to see her visitor. "You tracked me down."

Steve couldn't help let his eyes roam the curves that were emphasized by the slinky blue dress she had on. He didn't want to admit he'd traced her cell phone to discover she was at her place rather than his, or that he'd had that feature permanently installed on her new phone since El Condor had snatched her. Steve hadn't wanted to just call either. He actually preferred to disappoint her in person if at all possible. "Catherine, I…"

"By the look on your face," she cut him off and glanced out the front window where she spotted Danny sitting on the passenger side of his own car. "I'm guessing we're not going to make it to dinner tonight," Catherine concluded. She'd kind of been expecting that outcome, but it was still a letdown. "I have to say you've gotten good at wiggling your way out of dinner dates," she smiled but could immediately see he wasn't in a joking mood.

He reached out and twirled a lock of her hair with one finger. "You did something different."

Her smile returned, clearly touched that he'd noticed. "I just curled it a little."

"I like it," Steve sighed regretfully, knowing he'd have to leave her again in a few minutes.

"An officer and a gentleman," Catherine quipped.

His shoulders raised slightly in a half shrug. Steve took her by the hand and guided her over to the sofa where they sat down side-by-side. "It's my job to notice details, when things are out of place or people or lying," he commented.

"And the moment is ruined," she sighed, though not overly dramatic. Catherine loved his analytical mind, but some days she wished it could be more thoughtful than logical. "What's going on? Do you need some sort of favor for a case?"

"No. Well, maybe," he revised. "I need to talk to you about Lieutenant Cathleen Dugan."

"Dugan?" Catherine questioned, finding that an odd name to come up. "What about her? We served on the Enterprise together for a while; she also dated Billy. Do you think he's going to ask her to work with us, too? Maybe have a little three-way ex reunion of sorts?" she joked. Again she noticed that Steve's face revealed nothing humorous. "That was a joke," she clarified. "Hey, what gives? You seem really out of it right now. If it's about dinner, it's okay. I know work comes first."

"She's dead, Cath," he tried to deliver the news as gently as possible but there was never a good way to tell someone a friend or even an acquaintance had died. Steve explained further about how they'd found her body and everything. He watched as her whole body sagged upon hearing the details. "You okay?"

"I honestly didn't know her that well," Catherine's tone was soft, filled with sorrow. "Still, she was one of us."

He nodded. Military service had not just been a job for either of them; it had been a way of life. And those they'd served with had become family. Even the most distant co-worker could be considered a sort of cousin in the larger family view of the service. "Is there anything you can tell me about her?"

"We didn't work together much, she was in engineering. But it was a small ship," it seemed funny to say that considering the massive size of an aircraft carrier. "We obviously ran in to each other a lot and she and Billy saw each other a few times after he and I were together. Then her mom got sick, breast cancer. Cathleen mustered out to take care of her. I got an email about six months ago saying her mom had passed. I sent flowers and a card. I always meant to go visit her but… time slips away," she lamented regretfully.

Steve kept hold of her hand, gently squeezing it. "So you didn't know if she was dating or seeing someone recently?"

"No, but you might ask Billy. I think they kept in touch," she said.

"Yeah, about that…" Steve sighed. "Listen, Cath, you're going to hear about this eventually, probably the next time you see Harrington. I wanted to be the one to tell you that I, Danny and I actually, questioned Billy in regard to Dugan's death," he let her know.

"Questioned?" she mulled that term over for a second. "As in you thought of him as a suspect?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure," Steve conveyed.

Her moth hung open for a moment until her eyes narrowed. "How could you possibly think Billy had anything to do with this?" her tone held a small degree of exasperation. "Steve, come on. Have you lost your mind? Billy is not a bad guy. If you're really still having trouble with the two of us working together just say so."

"Cath, that's not it at all. Okay, maybe it is a little," he struggled with telling her the truth, but decided she should be completely informed. He presented the envelope of photos he'd received earlier that day, spreading them out across the coffee table and silently imploring her to check them out. "I don't want to believe Billy had anything to do with Dugan's death, but there's some weird stuff going on here including these photographs of you and Billy."

She picked up one of the pictures and frowned. "This is… these were taken at the new office space Billy found for us. That was just this morning," Catherine looked Steve in the eye. "Did you have me followed?"

"No, Catherine, I swear. Someone sent these to me at Five-0 headquarters about an hour and a half ago."

Her fingers gripped the photo a little tighter. "And you think it has something to do with Billy? Why would he do that? Send you pictures of him and I. That makes no sense," Catherine maintained.

"Well, Danny actually has a pretty realistic theory to support it being Harrington," he saw the look of disgust cross over her face. "Catherine, I'm sorry, but hear me out. Please? I honestly don't know who's doing this," Steve was beyond frustrated as he thought back to a few years ago when he'd been secretly sent envelopes containing the contents of his father's tool box. "All I know is that you and Cathleen have a mutual connection to Billy Harrington."

"By that reasoning, she and I shared a mutual connection to everyone who served aboard the Enterprise with Billy," she countered.

"Okay, you have a point there," he had to admit. "But how many of them shared a name similar to Catherine or Cathleen? And how many of them had a relationship with Billy Harrington that was more than work related?"

"The name thing…" Catherine replied. "The relationship thing… those could both just be coincidental."

"And the photographs of you and Billy?" he asked. "Is it coincidental that they showed up just about the same time as Dugan's death?" he could see her starting to cave to his reasoning. "You know, Chin has a saying. Coincidences usually take a lot of planning."

With her eyes aimed at the photo again, Catherine felt a shiver rake her body. "Should I be worried?" Catherine finally picked up on what was really bothering Steve at the moment.

"I don't know," he was getting tired of hearing those words. Steve hated not having answers, especially when it involved the potential danger of someone he cared about.

She dropped the picture back onto her coffee table with the others and curled up beside him. One hand reached out to rub his stubbly cheek. "Steve, those pictures," Catherine waved a hand at them. "There wasn't anything going on this morning between Harrington and me other than work." she stated. "He was really excited to show off the office space he'd found and he hugged me. But I told him it was inappropriate. I made that very clear to him and he seemed fine with it."

"Yeah, he said the same thing," Steve was buoyed by her honesty.

"Well," she shrugged. "I guess that means we did a good job of rehearsing our story so we'd get it straight for you," she grinned.

"Not funny, Catherine," he tried to stay firm but her impish grin caused him to cave. Steve leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against her lips before he got to his feet. He gathered the pictures and stuffed them back in his pocket. Then he held a hand out for her, helped her stand. "I'm going to figure this out, Catherine. I don't want you to freak out about these photos, but you should be cautious," he warned.

"I will be," she walked him to the door, their fingers intertwined. "I'm guessing you have to go back to work tonight?"

He nodded. "Hopefully Max will have something for us soon, I told him to let me know no matter how late. I'm really sorry, Cath." His hands moved to cup her face. "Honestly, I did have something planned for tonight."

"No worries," she let him off easy again. "But it's gonna cost you."

"I kinda figured," he nodded.

Catherine bit her bottom lip as they stood face-to-face, neither of them wanting to open the door and end their close contact. "Are we okay?" she finally asked, worried that he was still caught up in thinking about the pictures of her and Harrington.

"Absolutely," Steve squashed her doubts with another kiss, one that lasted longer than a few seconds. He felt bad again for leaving her, especially when he'd planned a very different evening for them. "Are you going to stay here tonight?" he asked.

"It sounds like you won't be home till late so…" she nodded. "I think I'll stay here, throw on some sweats, maybe watch a movie, sit here alone and be lonely," she concluded.

"My place has an alarm system," Steve replied.

"Alarm systems can be tricky to cuddle with," she joked. "Besides, my place has me," Catherine added. "I can take care of myself."

A small sigh escaped but he agreed, "I know you can. Just be sure to lock the doors, front and back, including your garage door, which I know you have a tendency to leave open at night or even when you're not here during the day. And…"

She nodded along with his litany of items. "And make sure the windows are closed and locked," Catherine added. "And sit in the middle of the living room fortified by all of the pillows and blankets I can find, and my weapon, and soup cans for throwing, and be sure to wear the helmet I used during my very short time with the Diamond Dolls," her brow raised in a questioning manner. "Did I forget anything?"

"No one likes a smart ass," Steve waged a finger at her, his other hand on the doorknob.

"You must," she shot back at him.

He opened the door, stepped on to the porch and scanned the street. Steve turned back to Catherine who was standing in the doorway. Both his hands went to her waist and he drew her in, hugging her for a long moment. "You're wrong, Catherine," Steve whispered in her ear. "Work doesn't come first. You do," he assured her.

000

"Thanks for waiting," Steve said as he got back to the car.

"No problem. How's Catherine?" Danny asked with open concern. "She staying here tonight?"

Steve nodded as he watched the house for a few seconds longer. "Yeah. She's good; a little worried." The porch light went on and he smiled when her garage door was lowered. He reached out and tapped his phone then waited for an answer.

"_Kelly here_," the man's voice greeted them.

"Hey, Chin, have you got anything new?" Steve asked.

"_I found out Dugan left the Navy two and a half years ago to move in with and take care of her sick mother here in Honolulu_."

Danny's head bobbed. "Billy confirmed that," he shared a glance with Steve.

"Catherine, too," Steve concurred.

"_Well, her mother passed away six months ago and there doesn't seem to be any other family. Father died when she was ten," _Chin revealed_. "About the time of her mother's death is when Dugan appears to have taken up wind surfing. I found out she doesn't own a car but she did purchase a bus ticket to Waimea Bay Friday afternoon. However, there are no records of her staying at any local hotels. I'm checking all public Waimea Bay security cameras from Friday and Saturday, so far there's no sign of Dugan on any of them._"

"Anything else about her life before the trip north?" Steve inquired.

"_I know she's been working steadily since she moved back to the island," _Chin offered._ "And no suspicious withdrawals or deposits according to her bank records from the past year. Not much there yet. But I ran our lobby camera back to get a look at the guy who delivered those pictures of Billy and Catherine. Looks like a courier service. Noticed a logo for a place called Belmar Deliveries on the guy's jacket. I was just about to look them up._"

"Nice work, Chin," Steve replied. "Do me a couple of other favors. See if you can track down anyone at the ER that treated Dugan those three times. If there was abuse going on I want to know about it. And see if you can verify that Harrington was at his place last night. Danny and I are on our way to talk to Max, see if Dugan's body can tell us anything more. And I'm going to leave these pictures of Billy and Catherine with Fong. Maybe he can pull a print or at least tell us where they were developed."

"_Sounds good. I'll get right on it_," Chin disconnected.

They stepped in to the autopsy lab ten minutes later. Their victim was positioned on her stomach, upper back exposed, lower covered. "Max, tell us what you know," Steve implored.

"I can start by telling you that your victim does not appear to have been restrained in any visible manner," Max stood beside the body. His white lab coat was covered by a dark work apron. "At least not in a way that left marks," the ME added. "As you know, sometimes the bad guys are clever and use soft materials to mask their bindings"

Steve smiled softly at Max's bad guy remark. "Did you find any foreign material residue on her?"

"Unfortunately, no," Max disappointed them. "If there was any it was washed away by the ocean," the doctor pointed out. "I can confirm she was in the water for approximately twelve hours as I previously concluded. I also know that your victim died from lack of oxygen, which led to cardiac arrest and therefore stopped the flow of blood to her brain. All of which was brought on by an excessive amount of water intake to the lungs," he concluded.

Danny rolled his eyes. "You mean she drowned," he said.

"In layman's terms, yes," Max concurred.

"Do you think it was an accident?" Steve asked.

Max's head shook, "It seems unlikely given the presence of GHB in her blood stream."

"GHB?" Danny scoffed. "I really wish criminals could be original. And whatever happened to good old Chloroform? That stuff was rarely ever detected in the blood stream."

"You are correct, detective Williams. That's due to the fact that it is so rapidly eliminated from a body's system," Max reasoned.

"Can we get back on track here?" Steve broke in. "This is looking more like a homicide," he realized. Part of him had hoped they'd discover, as Billy had pointed out, that Dugan was truly just clumsy and had accidentally drowned due to a wind surfing accident.

"Commander, I also discovered something interesting I thought you should see," Max lowered the cover over their victim's backside and directed their eyes southward to the small of her back. Very low on her right side there was a dark line-drawing. "The mark is approximately one and a half inches long and appears to be a bird of some sort. My guess is a dove, given the general characteristics. Stout body, short neck, slender bill with fleshy cere."

With narrowed eyes, Danny aimed his gaze at Max. "Okay, I'll ask. What is a cere?"

"Cere is the term for the waxy structure which covers the base of a bird's bill," Max recited as if he were reading an encyclopedia.

"And you got all that from a one and a half inch bird drawing on a dead woman's tushy?" Danny sneered.

"Actually, I made an assumption based on the fact that the mark looks very much like the symbol used on Dove brand soap," Max explained himself.

Danny's head made a slight side-to-side motion. "So our victim was killed by a soap company? Thanks for solving the case, Max," he turned to Steve. "We should deputize this guy."

"I know you are being facetious, detective," Max didn't allow the comment to bother him much. "I was simply using the Dove soap bar logo as an example."

"So she has a tattoo. How is that helpful?" Steve wondered, trying to move things along again.

"Correction, commander," Max held one finger aloft in order to make his point. "The mark is actually a brand."

"A brand?" Danny eyed the doctor. "We're not talking soap again, are we?"

"I think he means like what they do to cattle?" Steve guessed as he eyed the mark closer.

"That's precisely what I meant," Max lent a smile to the man's keen wit. "Despite the fact that salt water can actually help heal some wounds, I was able to discern that the branded area had barely been able to heal before being exposed to the salt water. Judging by the rate of healing I'd say the brand was adhered sometime within the last forty-eight hours."

Wearing a dubious look, Danny eyed Steve. "Do you really think this might be our killer's calling card? Who brands humans?"

"I've never heard of any killer with this specific signature," McGarrett returned. "But branding of people has a long history, most notably in slave trade," he saw Danny wince at that realization. "But it shows up in modern day; organized crime, street gangs and prisons. Some people do it purely for decoration like a tattoo. But it seems a bit odd that the killer might use a sign typically associated with peace."

"Are doves ever seen as anything but peaceful?" Danny wondered.

"Not that I'm aware," Max replied. "I know in China, specifically, the dove represents peace and long life. I also know that doves mate for life and are incredibly loyal. They work together to build a nest and raise their young. They're dedicated and honorable. They are the epitome of love."

"Love," Danny's voice was laced with cynicism.

"Now there's a motive for murder," Steve concluded.

000

"Harrington's alibi seems pretty tight," Chin announced as Steve and Danny entered the Five-0 offices.

"How so?" Steve wanted more details.

Chin showed them a security image still of Billy on the main screen. "The building where he lives has about two dozen security cameras at various points in the building. All apartment entries are digital card readers rather than your traditional lock and key. Entry data has him arriving home at 9:07pm last night and not coming out again until 9:32am this morning. When I checked his cell phone log I noticed he only made one call last night, to his father's number in San Francisco. The next call wasn't until this morning at 9am, to Catherine."

Steve sighed. "That's when he asked her to meet him at the office building."

"So we're all in agreement that he checks out?" Danny looked to Steve more so than Chin.

"It would seem so," McGarrett gave in as he realized that they clearly needed to focus their investigation elsewhere. "We've got a woman branded, drugged and drowned all within a forty-eight hour time period. She's got a definite connection to Billy and Catherine. Seemingly no enemies, no signs of anything out of the ordinary in her life. And then some random pictures of Catherine and Billy show up. A dove brand…" he trailed off. "And no real suspects."

"I hate to be the one to say this," Danny ventured. "But sometimes cases don't get solved."

"Not this time," Steve shook his head defiantly. Despite the fact they had little to go on, he wasn't giving up. "Dugan served her country for twelve years. She was a friend of Catherine and Billy. She deserves to find justice for her death. I'm going to do my best to make that happen," Steve declared.

"Well, I found fifteen functioning security cameras in Waimea Bay," Chin let them know. "Fifteen times a twenty-four hour period means we have over three hundred hours of security camera footage to sift through," he announced. "I could use some help."

With a nod, Steve pulled over a stool and sat beside the tech table. "Hey, Danny…"

"Yeah, I know. Three buckets of coffee coming right up," Danny replied.

000

"Don't go in there," she groaned.

Catherine rolled her eyes at the young woman walking down a long, dark hallway on her TV screen. The channel she'd stopped on three hours ago was running a non-stop Halloween movie marathon. Somehow Catherine was already sucked in to her second horror flick. "You cannot be that stupid," Catherine said as the actress on screen reached for the closet door handle. She shook her head, not ashamed that she was talking to a movie character that couldn't hear a word she was saying. "Where do bad guys hide, genius?"

The red-headed woman on the TV opened the closet door and was bombarded by a knife wielding maniac.

A blood-curdling scream emitted from the woman's mouth but was soon silenced.

"They hide in closets, you idiot," Catherine said as she took a bite of her second chocolate cookie. "I tried to warn you," she sighed. "Now you're bleeding all over the white carpet."

The ringing of her cell phone caused Catherine to twitch and drop her cookie.

"Okay, maybe enough with the scary movies," she punched the mute button on her TV remote and grabbed the phone. Catherine smiled to see the goofy picture of Steve flashing on her cell's screen. "Hey, are you still working?" she greeted.

"_Yep, helping Chin search through hours of security camera footage_," he relayed. "_You want to come help us out? This is just your sort of specialty_."

"Thanks for the not-so-enthusiastic offer," Catherine could hear the tiredness in his voice. "Honestly, if you'd asked me a few hours ago I would've gladly helped you rather than sit here and rot my brain on Halloween slasher flicks," she conveyed. Helping find out what happened to Dugan would've been worth it, but a glance at her watch caused Catherine to use her free hand to shut off the TV completely. "I didn't realize how late it was. I have to work tomorrow. I should be in bed."

"_Sure, mention bed when I can't be there with you_," Steve lamented. "_You're a cruel woman_."

"Sorry," she sighed, resting her head against the back of the sofa. "Have you found anything more about Cathleen's death?

"_Not unless you know anything about human branding_," he replied. "_Was that anything you ever heard about in the Navy_? _An alternative to tattoos_?"

Her nose crinkled. "The only time I ever saw anyone branded was in Afghanistan. Some of the extremist there would brand their kill count on their wrists, somewhere visible for everyone to see," Catherine recalled with a heavy heart. There were so many things she'd seen during her three tours there that she wished she could wipe from her memory. That was probably why she so easily mocked ridiculous horror movies.

"_You're right. I almost forgot about that_," Steve remembered. "_I'm sorry, didn't mean to bring those memories back for you. You should go to bed. Without me_," he relented.

She smiled; always comforted by the knowledge that he understood the things she'd been through, because he'd lived them as well. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"_How about dinner_?" he offered.

"Hmm," Catherine mulled over the idea for no more than a moment. "Given your bad track record with dinner dates, how about I cook for us here? If you can show up, great. If not, at least I won't have to get all dressed up two nights in a row for nothing. Say seven?"

"_Deal_," Steve agreed. "_I'll call if something comes up_."

Silence hung between them for a while after that, neither of them wanting to hang up.

"_Good night, Cath_," he finally said.

"Night," Catherine whispered. The call ended and she frowned at the blank screen, feeling foolish for missing him already.

A muffled clang caught her attention, causing her head to turn toward the TV. Remembering she'd turned it off Catherine glanced around the house.

She clutched her phone and grabbed the gun off her coffee table. The one thing she'd actually followed through on was keeping her weapon close at hand. The clanging noise sounded again and she crept across the room. Trying not to think about the ridiculous movie she'd just been watching, Catherine entered her kitchen and edged toward the back door. After hearing the sound a third time she slowly unlocked and opened the door. A step was taken down the back stairs, then two, her gun held close to her side.

"If anyone is back here you should know I'm armed," Catherine warned in a firm tone.

The bush to her left rustled softly and she spun around on one heel to face it.

"I'm serious," she spoke to the darkness. "This is private property and you need to…" her words were cut off by a sudden yelp from across the yard. Catherine spotted movement near her back fence, some sort of shadow moving speedily.

She took off to chase it.

* * *

**To be continued…**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Hawaii Five-0_.

**Thank you all for being so nice and reading my story. Your reviews make me smile!  
****This part got really long... sorry?**

* * *

**You Owe Me  
****Part 3**

By  
N. J. Borba

* * *

A prolonged yawn escaped as he turned over for the third time in as many minutes.

Steve tried to stretch his legs, but the too-short black sofa in his office wouldn't yield to his lanky form. Left or right side, back or front, he couldn't find a comfortable position. He finally gave up on sleep and opened his eyes, feeling extremely unrested. All the coffee consumption from the previous night had helped to keep him awake searching Chin's security footage, but it had also kept him from being able to get more than about three hours of sleep in a six hour period.

He swung his legs off the sofa, bare feet making contact with the floor. Steve rested both elbows against his knees and rubbed his eyes.

Despite how sluggish he was feeling, Steve smiled when his office door opened and Catherine stepped inside. Feeling a renewed spark of energy in her presence, he stood and moved around his desk to greet her. "This is a nice surprise. I didn't think I was going to see you this morning," Steve was about to move in for a kiss when she side-stepped him. "Shouldn't you be at work by now, or are you slacking your last week?" he sported a one-sided grin as he teased her.

Catherine stood before him in her Navy camies, hair pulled back tight, hands on her hips. But she didn't say a single word.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again. "Is something wrong?" Steve was more than a little worried by her odd behavior. Even though he'd made the joke, he knew she'd never slack at her job, not even down to the last minute of service.

"Yes, something is wrong," the words spilled over her lips in a huff of breath that bordered on anger. "The next time you have an HPD patrol check up on me at my house, why don't you just tell them to knock on the door and ask me if I'm okay?" her eyes were wide as she barely took a breath between sentences. "I chased an office named Nelson down my back alley last night and nearly blew his head off. The poor guy was so scared he could barely say anything. That's what's wrong."

Steve winced as he listened to her story. "I just asked them to drive by your place a few times last night, not get out and check the house. I specifically told them to be discrete and not let you know they were watching the place," he sighed.

"Oh, well, then it was _their_ fault," Catherine snapped. "Clearly not _your_ fault," she shook her head and moved toward the door.

"Cath, wait a sec…" Steve called after her.

But she was out of his office and barreling toward the main exit without another word or a glance in his direction.

Danny opened the side glass door just as Catherine was exiting.

"Hi, Catherine," he said cheerfully. "Bye, Catherine," the man added as she rushed past him without even acknowledging his presence. Danny immediately spotted the unhappy look on his partner's face. "Something going on there?" he pointed over his shoulder to where Catherine had disappeared down the hall. "I don't think I've ever seen her mad before," Danny commented. "To be honest, I didn't think she got mad." When Steve didn't offer any information, Danny guessed exactly what was wrong. "She found out about the patrol you had watching her last night," his head shook. "Told you that was a bad idea."

"I don't care," Steve responded grumpily as he moved toward the main computer. "I'd do it again. I'd rather have her alive and pissed at me than the alternative."

"Hey, I know you've been a little obsessed about her safety since what happened with El Condor," Danny sympathized with his friend. He'd threatened to not even let Grace go to school after she'd been abducted. "But you do remember the part where Catherine is a trained Navy officer, right? The woman walked in to North Korea with you. I'm pretty sure she can handle herself." He saw the glare Steve was shooting his direction. "I'm just saying," Danny held his hands up.

Realizing he was being relentless, Steve's shoulders sagged a little. "I know, Danny," he acknowledged the man. "And she reminds me."

"You two look like you got about as much sleep as I did," Chin observed as he exited his office and tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn.

"Chin, were you able to find anything out about our guy from Belmar Courier service?" Steve asked, ready to get back into the case. Their security camera footage search the night before had yielded nothing and they were all tired, but Steve was not about to give up on Dugan. There were still plenty of stones left unturned including talking to her co-workers, searching her house, figuring out what the courier service knew, and determining if the pictures of Catherine and Billy had any connection to Dugan's death.

With a quick tap-swipe of the computer controls, Chin brought up the image of a young man with blonde hair, blue eyes and a bit of a scowl. "Nathan Joyce is the guy who delivered the package yesterday," Chin conveyed the information. "Thing is, I finally got ahold of their distribution warehouse this morning, and the package Joyce delivered to you wasn't registered with Belmar. They have no paperwork to back it up and apparently Joyce didn't show for work this morning."

The screen shifted a little to reveal a police arrest photo of the same man. "He's done some time for breaking and entering as well as assault," Chin revealed. "I've got his home address for you, but I have an ER doctor to talk to this morning."

Steve turned to Danny. "Guess that leaves you and me to pay Joyce a visit."

Danny glanced down at his partner's bare feet. "You might want to put some shoes on first," he suggested.

000

They stood outside a rundown bungalow with peeling white paint, boarded up windows and a porch roof that was about to cave in.

"I'm guessing Belmar doesn't pay very well," Danny remarked as they stepped lightly on the front porch, worried they might fall through the rotten floor boards at any moment. Danny knocked. The sound of shuffling could be heard from inside, followed by a dull thunk and then a rather loudly exclaimed explicative. "Someone's home," Danny grinned.

The door swung open and a man stood before them, bouncing on one foot. "God damned roommate never cleans up his sh…" the man looked up at his visitors. "Hey, what's up?"

Steve noticed his blonde hair was slightly longer than in his mug-shot and his eyes were bloodshot, but he was definitely their guy. "Not much, what's up with you?" he acted casually.

"Nada, brah," Joyce drawled. "Just stubbed my toe, totally not cool." He stood there in jeans and flip-flops, staring wordlessly at them for a second. "So, like, if you're looking for Manny, 'fraid he's not here right now. And I gotta fly so…"

Danny spied a black duffle bag by the door. "You going on some sort of trip?" the question was not in reference to his current state of drug induced flight, but it could've been, "You trying to flee town, Joyce?" Danny tipped their hand by using the man's name.

"Oh, shit," Nathan Joyce swore as he stumbled backwards a few steps. "You guys aren't here for Manny," he realized before turning and taking off for the back of the house.

"Steve, he's running," Danny needlessly pointed out as he pulled his weapon and began a pursuit.

"Yeah, I see that," Steve recognized, backing his way out the door. "I'm going around, gimpy can't get too far!" He jumped off the porch and spun to his left. A wooden side gate hung open on loose hinges and Steve collided with it on his way to the backyard. He caught sight of their perp limp-running across the lawn. There was no back fence so Joyce headed straight out into the street. "Why do they always try to run?" Steve mumbled to himself as Danny caught up with him.

Even in his drugged state, with a stubbed toe and flip-flops, Joyce ran decently fast. Steve knew people had a tendency to do that when they were on an adrenaline rush. Joyce led them around the derelict neighborhood, passing through the backyard of a daycare and ducking in to a narrow building that seemed to be some sort of homeless shelter. As he kept up pursuit, Steve heard a distinct rumble coming down the street. He knew the area well enough to anticipate the man's next move.

"Danny!" Steve shouted to his partner and pointed toward a cut off location about a block ahead of them. McGarrett sprinted and caught up with their guy a few feet from the bus stop where Steve had been expecting their perp to try and catch a getaway ride. "Not so fast, pal," he said as Joyce was inches away from waving down the bus.

One of Steve's hands managed to grab the guy's shoulder, but it slipped off when Nathan Joyce ducked and rolled across the sidewalk. There was no doubt in Steve's mind that the guy would be caught, but he had to give him props for being wily. Not seeing Danny on the street, Steve hoped he was in position as he followed Nathan toward the closest available hideout. He watched Joyce dart inside the Laundromat, glancing over his shoulder from time to time. "That's right, keep your eyes on me," Steve whispered to himself.

McGarrett leapt over a bank of washing machines, sliding across the slick white surface of one until he landed on his feet. He finally pulled his weapon, having Nathan cornered toward the back of the building. "Joyce, there's nowhere to go!" Steve warned. The man didn't bother to stop, though, despite the threat of a weapon. He made a last ditch effort and lunged for the back door. Joyce turned toward the open door and ran right in to Danny's outstretched arm, which dropped him like a ragdoll.

One of the laundry room patrons called out from across the room in a jovial tone, "Dude just got clotheslined in a Laundromat, sweet!"

"Little tip, always keep an eye out for what's ahead of you," Steve uttered as he stood over Joyce's supine body.

"I knew this would come back and bite me on the ass," Joyce complained as he lay groaning on the dirty floor. "Easy money is never easy," he muttered as Steve hauled him to his feet.

"You're a bloody genius," Danny remarked as he massaged his sore arm.

Less than twenty minutes later, Danny and Steve had Joyce cuffed to the metal chair in their sublevel interrogation room. Blue light cast shadows on the walls as they questioned their man. "HPD found fifteen grand in your travel bag," Steve stood about three feet in front of their suspect, arms folded across his chest. "That's a lot of cash for a guy with a part-time courier job. Did your friend Manny help you out with other means of staying afloat?"

"Manny's good people," Joyce shrugged.

Danny scoffed. "That may be, but we found thirty marijuana plants in his bedroom. What do you know about those?"

"Look, guys," Nathan Joyce did his best to sit up straight and look presentable. "I never had nothing to do with Manny's business," his poor English skills made him sound like an even bigger doofus. "That fifteen large came from a job I did on my own. Some dude calls me and says he needs a package delivered, easy as can be right? The envelope shows up in my mailbox overnight. I deliver it like he asks and the next day I find payment in the dumpster down the street from where I live."

Steve wondered how a person could be so clueless as to think that was a legitimate deal. "This guy have a name?" he asked.

"No way," Joyce's head shook. "Dude clearly didn't want to be known. Truth be told I don't know what the guy sounded like. The voice on my phone was all garbled. You know, like they do in movies sometimes when the guy kidnaps someone and changes his voice to not be detected. Kinda cool, actually," he concluded.

"Cool, huh?" Danny scoffed. "Is it cool that you delivered photos of someone being stalked? This guy you spoke to could be after someone we care a lot about. Is that cool to you?"

Joyce looked down at the floor. "Man, I just needed some cash. Too many people are after me these days."

"What do you know about Cathleen Dugan?" Steve switched subjects a little.

Joyce shrugged the best he could while cuffed to the chair. "Never heard of her. Honest, man."

Danny and Steve shared a quick glance, neither of them thinking Joyce had anything to do with Dugan. "You have a number for who paid you to deliver those pictures?" Steve asked.

"Sure, it's on my cell," Nathan Joyce easily agreed. "We good now? I can go?"

"Oh yeah, we're good. And you're going," Steve nodded as he stood beside the man and unfastened the cuffs from the chair. "We're going to give you a nice clean jail cell to stay in for a while," he let the man know, re-cuffing Joyce's wrists behind his back. "Actually I can't be sure how clean the place will be. But you should be safe from your enemies there. Although I can't say you won't make more while you're in there." He turned to Danny. "Book 'em, Danno."

"Gladly," Danny didn't even balk at the use of his nickname.

000

"How you holding up?" Danny asked as his partner used a key to unlock the front door of Dugan's house.

They'd arranged to get the key from a neighbor who'd been given it by Dugan's mother in case of emergency. Steve pushed the heavy wood door open, but the carpeted floor caused the door to get stuck about halfway open. "I should be asking how you are," he remarked, glancing over at his partner as he gave the door a good shove. "You hurt your arm?"

"I'll probably have a bruised arm tomorrow, thank you for asking," Danny smiled as he watched the door give way, which caused Steve to stumble forward further in to the room. "And you, my friend, are doing an excellent job at avoiding the question. I can tell that Catherine's visit this morning rattled you. You want to talk about it?"

Steve sighed as he glanced around the room. Everything was very tidy. A beige sofa with colorful quilts folded and draped over the arms. One very small TV in the corner. A built-in cabinet with glass doors. Inside the display cabinet were dozens of small porcelain figurines. Most of them looked like little kids to Steve. A girl with an old-school slate writing tablet. A little boy walking a gray puppy on a leash. Two large bookcases spanned floor to ceiling, flanking the shorter display case. On one shelf some of the titles caused Steve to grimace; The Breast Cancer Diagnosis, Living With Cancer, How Cancer Affects Your Family.

"I've just never heard her raise her voice like that before," Steve finally said as he turned away from the books. "Not in all the years I've known her. Even last Christmas when she wasn't happy about my special plans for the last few days before her leave ended, she just calmly explained that she preferred a meal at a restaurant. Never raised her voice."

"Well, do you think maybe she's a little freaked by all of this?" Danny asked. "Seeing those pictures, thinking it could have something to do with Harrington, who she considers a friend and is about to work with. That's scary."

"Never seen her scared before, either," Steve realized, flipping through a stack of gardening magazines beside the sofa. "Like you said this morning, she walked in to North Korea with me. She's seen a lot of bad stuff."

"Do you two ever talk about it, though?" Danny pressed the matter a little more. "What I've learned is that women like to talk things out. And given the fact I have an eleven-year-old daughter, I do a lot of talking about feelings. It could be that Catherine is worried about telling you she's afraid. Maybe she thinks you'll see it as some sign of weakness from her."

"Why would she think that?" Steve was quick to be defensive. "I'd never judge her for being scared."

"But does she know that?" Danny tried to tread lightly. "I'm just saying, you are a very masculine guy. Rough and tough Navy SEAL man. You hardly ever let your emotions show. Maybe Catherine feels like she needs to be the same way in order to be an equal partner for you."

That suggestion distressed Steve more than he cared to admit. "I never thought about it like that. I hope she doesn't feel that way."

"Look, I know from experience that fighting can be a healthy thing, and make-up sex… well, Rachael and I pretty much had that perfected," Danny mumbled the last few words. "Just be sure not to let it linger too long," he doled out some unsolicited advice. "You could actually go talk to her now if you want. I can handle this," he offered, motioning to the room.

"No," Steve concentrated his efforts on the house. "I need to do this right now. Catherine and I have a dinner date tonight," he said as he moved down the hall.

He was good at shutting down personal problems in order to deal with a case or a mission. Steve stalked through the house with a detective's eye. The place was small but perfectly functional. Two bedrooms, one bathroom. Kitchen, living and dining areas. The rest of the space was as well-kept as the living room. Beds made, bathtub sparkling and not a single dirty dish in the kitchen sink. Steve didn't find anything out of the ordinary until he opened the bottom drawer of a file cabinet in one of the bedrooms.

"Danny, come take a look at these!" Steve called to his partner who was in another room. When Danny appeared in the doorway Steve held up a business sized envelope. "Medical bills," Steve declared. "All of these are in Nancy Dugan's name. Cathleen's mother."

"There must be hundreds of them," Danny remarked as he sifted through the cabinet with Steve. "I can't even pronounce some of these medical procedures," he squinted at one very long word but decided not to try butchering it.

Steve nodded his agreement. "Looks like most of these are past due," he flipped through the envelopes. "Final, final notices."

"Never figured how doctors could keep collecting after a person died," Danny shook his head in disgust.

"Just because the person died, doesn't mean the doctors don't deserve to be paid," Steve defended. "They do a job just like anyone else. You know, Chin was only looking at Dugan's financial accounts not her mother's. And if Cathleen was left with this kind of debt…" he sighed. "She may have gotten in with the wrong sort of people to help pay for it."

Danny nodded as he helped Steve snap some cell phone photos of the bills to send to Chin.

Both of them stopped short when a sound echoed from down the hallway. Steve had a hand on the weapon at his side as he moved in to the hall, Danny at his back. The two of them walked slowly until a scratching sound caused them to spin around and face the wooden door behind them. "What is that, a closet?" Steve whispered.

With a shrug, Danny placed a hand against the nob and slowly turned it. Steve stood at the ready.

The door opened and a bundle of orange fur lunged at them with a boisterous yowl.

"Jeez!" Danny exclaimed, taking a step backward. "A cat jumping out of a laundry room, how cliché," he mumbled. "What's up with the laundry theme today?"

Another angry hiss from the volatile feline was aimed at Danny as the cat stalked toward him. The animal struck out at Danny's gray pants. "I think he likes you," Steve chuckled and dropped the hand that had been poised on his weapon. "Did you find anything else in the other bedroom?" he asked.

"Clothes and jewelry," Danny replied as he tried to gently shoo the cat away from him.

Steve mulled over their findings. "Do you find it odd that there's no computer here? Dugan does engineering drafting work, right? But she doesn't own a computer? Seems strange."

"Maybe she has one at work," Danny suggested.

"Could be," Steve nodded. "But there's very little technology in this house. Small TV but no DVD player, and no land line phones. Lots of books, though, and magazines."

Danny chuckled. "Believe it or not some people like to read. I'm trying to teach Grace the joy of reading, actually. Did you know they don't even have kids give book reports in school anymore? What's up with that? Lazy teaching if you ask me. All kids read is the internet, and don't even get me started on texting. That is not English."

Steve was barely listening as he discovered a door from the house in to the garage. He flipped on a light switch in the garage and spotted something interesting. "Danny, look," he pointed to the large black case taking up a decent amount of space in the garage. Steve went to unzip the bulky bag. "This is Dugan's windsurfing board and equipment."

"So what was she doing up north without it?" Danny voiced the same thing he guessed his partner was thinking.

"Dugan could've been taken from here. But there were no signs of struggle anywhere in the house," Steve tried to work it out in his head but was coming up blank. Without a second thought, Steve called for a CSU to go over the place. "They'll be here in a half hour. And we have a meeting with Chin to talk to Dugan's co-workers."

"We're just going to leave the cat?" Danny asked as they walked to the front door. The orange tabby cat batted at Danny's leg again.

"No, I guess not," Steve said. "That thing is likely to ruin any fingerprints in this place. Grab it and we'll drop it off at a shelter on our way to Dugan's office."

Danny's head shook. "I'm not grabbing it."

McGarrett frowned. "I thought you liked animals?"

"Dogs. I like dogs," Danny clarified as he eyed the cat. "Cats I find to be useless. You can't train them and they're lazy. Also, I've seen Pet Cematary," he shuddered.

"Then get a bag or something," Steve shrugged.

"Steven, I know you have no love for those of the four legged variety and I realize I just denounced the cat population, but even I know that you cannot put a hissing cat in a bag. It's cruel. Besides, that thing is likely to rip a hole in my car interior. You should know if you destroy another of my Camaros you're buying the next one," Danny threatened.

"Fine, we'll toss it in the trunk then."

With wide eyes, Danny shook his head. "Have you no humanity at all?" he made a move toward the cat but the animal hissed again.

"How hard can it be?" Steve took a step toward the cat, crouched down and scooped up the animal. The feline immediately curled up, closed his eyes and began to purr in Steve's arms.

"Un-freaking-believable," Danny grumbled. "I get a bruised arm and hissed at today, and you turn out to be Saint Francis of Assisi." His mood shifted suddenly, though, and he smiled as they walked out to the car. "Guess this means I get to drive."

Steve glared at the relaxed cat in his arms. "Thanks a lot, buddy."

000

"What took you so long in there?" Danny asked. "I was about to come in after you."

Realizing Danny was staying put in the driver's seat, Steve resigned himself to the passenger side again and pulled on his seatbelt. "The cat had some separation anxiety issues," Steve revealed as he showed Danny the red scratches on his arms. He could see his partner trying not to laugh. "Feeling better now?"

"A little," Danny admitted with an amused snicker.

He drove them to the building on Merchant Street. Inside the main lobby a large sign directed them to: MLC, an Architectural Company, taking up five floors of the building. Below that sign was a newer, smaller, placard that read: Harrington Private Security – Sixth Floor. Steve had also noticed the construction van parked outside the building and he guessed Billy was starting work on the new office space. Chin greeted them on the second floor, just outside the main office level of the architectural firm.

"Were you able to find out anything more about Nancy Dugan's medical history?" Steve asked.

"Plenty, and it's not a nice story. About three years ago Nancy Dugan found one mass in her left breast," Chin relayed. "They removed it, but it spread to the right side and within a few months they'd found multiple tumors. After two years of aggressive chemo and radiation therapies, she had a double mastectomy and still the cancer persisted," Chin sighed, almost grateful that Malia had died quicker. "It spread in to her lymph nodes and in the end there was just no way they could fight it. It attacked her whole body. The hospital stays, surgeries, the bills amount to nearly quarter of a million in out-of-pocket patient costs," he revealed.

Steve couldn't help think of the women in his life as he listened to the tale. "Any word from Charlie?" he shifted topics.

Chin nodded. "More bad news. Fong determined that Joyce's caller was using a burner phone, untraceable. And he couldn't find any prints on those pictures of Catherine and Harrington. Charlie did determine they were developed using a common ink jet printer and store bought photo paper, but that stuff is all over the place."

"So someone printed them from home?" Danny guessed.

"Making it impossible to trace as well," Chin regretfully informed them. He focused his efforts on the office they were standing outside. "MLC stands for Myer, Lawson and Chase who are the three co-partners in this firm. They also have seven other associates, one receptionist, two office managers, ten architectural drafters, a landscape architect, a full-time electrical engineering consultant and a structural engineering consultant, which was Dugan," Chin explained as he walked them through the door.

They entered a high-ceilinged reception space. Old world architecture with modern flare. The walls were a crisp white, floors were old-school wide plank wood. Metal benches lined one wall and a receptionist sat behind a raised wood and marble countertop. "Can I help you, gentlemen?" the woman addressed them cordially.

"We're here to see Martin Chase," Steve flashed his Five-0 badge.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Chase left Sunday morning on a business trip," she replied. "He's attending the AIA Committee on Architecture for Education Fall Conference in San Francisco this week."

Danny's brow raised, "How convenient."

Undeterred, Steve continued. "Then we need to speak with anyone else here who worked with Cathleen Dugan."

The woman nodded, her eyes lowered a little and her demeanor turned solemn. "I can't believe she's dead. Everyone here worked with her in some way," she stood and walked around from behind her desk. "I'm Beth, I'll show you to Cathleen's office first. And I'll let everyone know you're here. You can use her office to talk to them."

"Why is this place so huge?" Danny inquired. "Five floors?"

"We're one of the largest design firms in Hawaii. Ground floor is for printing and copying," Beth explained, "Second floor for our offices. Third floor is drafting and 3D modeling studio space. Fourth floor is for our continuing education classrooms and reference library. Fifth floor is for clients, conference room and presentation space."

"Did you know Dugan very well?" Chin asked as they walked down a wide, brightly lit hall lined by glass-front offices.

Beth's head shook. "She was here two years, but outside of work we didn't socialize much. Cathleen was burdened by caring for her mother. She never seemed to have time to do much else, at least not that I was ever aware." She opened the door to one of the glass-fronted offices and waved them inside.

"That her laptop?" Danny pointed to the silver notebook computer closed atop the desk.

"Office owned," Beth nodded. "But she carted it home for business and personal use. Is there anything else you need right now? Coffee? Tea?"

"Thanks, no," Steve let the woman leave.

Chin powered up the laptop. He wasn't surprised when a screen popped up asking for a password. He typed in Dugan's name at first, trying different combinations. Next he attempted to use her mother's name. "Password protected," he finally informed the other two in the room. "I just tried Navy and Lieutenant. Any other suggestions?"

"Semper fi?" Danny threw out.

Steve shook his head in disbelief. "Semper Fidelis is the Marines."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Excuse me. What's the Navy motto?"

"Unofficially, Non Sibi Sed Patrai," Steve replied. "Not for self, but for country," he translated.

With swift key strokes, Chin tried both Latin and English versions in a further attempt to crack Dugan's password. "Nope," he reported.

"What was that cat's name?" Steve turned to Danny for an answer. "Did it have a collar? I don't remember."

"Not a clue," Danny couldn't help.

As they waited for their first co-worker to interview, Steve glanced around Dugan's office and spied more of the same porcelain figurines he'd seen at her house. "Chin, what did you call these things that Dugan collected, Hummer or something?"

"Uh, Hummel, I think," Chin recalled. He typed it in to the computer. "Nice, I'm in."

The first person they spoke to was Keith Myer, the oldest of the three partners. He had gray hair but a tall, muscular physique.

"I spoke with an ER doctor this morning that treated Dugan for a few minor injuries," Chin addressed the man, abandoning his computer search for a moment. "They were required to perform an assessment of her wounds, but they determined they didn't believe the injuries had to do with abuse. Did she ever mention different to you?"

Myer's head shook. "No. Wind surfing was something she always wanted to do and after her mother died she started to realize how short life was. She didn't want to waste what time she had left. I admired that about her. My thirteen year old daughter and I went out with her several times the last few months, and Cathy was pretty famous for bruising herself somehow. She was clumsy. Once dropped a toner barrel for the large copier downstairs and ended up with blank ink all over her hands and clothes."

Steve knew Dugan had been drugged before her death and her board was in the garage, so an accident was still out as far as he was concerned. "Did you invite Cathleen on these excursions or was it the other way around?"

"Usually I was the one to initiate them," Myer said. "I didn't marry till later in life, my wife is a bit younger and therefore so are my kids. But I'm still old enough to be Cathy's father and she told me her dad died when she was ten. We became close. My wife and I invited her to family functions on occasion. Cathy and her mother Nancy were proud people, but they spent last Christmas with us. Nancy was…" he sighed. "So thin and weak. We knew she wouldn't make it. We were there for the funeral, there for Cathy."

The man spoke for a few more minutes but wasn't able to shed any sort of light on who might have wanted Dugan dead.

Melanie Lawson, a slight woman, mid-thirties with short blonde hair, was the firm's third partner.

She wore bronze-colored metal glasses and stood in Dugan's office as if she were made of stone. "You should know that Dugan and I did not really get along well," Lawson began. "It wasn't personal, she seemed nice enough. But as a woman in this business it's taken me a long time to climb the latter. I see every woman in this office as a potential threat to my position, aside from the receptionist," she coolly relayed. "Any structural work I needed help on I'd confer with Chase and he'd pass it along to Dugan. Those two were very tight."

"How tight?" Steve was curious.

Lawson shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were sleeping together," she said nonchalantly.

"Anything to back up that presumption?" Danny probed.

"No," Melanie shook her head. "But Chase has always been tight-lipped about his private life. I just figured."

"Thanks for your help," Chin showed her the door and eyed his partners. "Well, she was friendly," he said once the woman was out of hearing range. "I haven't found much on Dugan's laptop. Mostly drawings she was working on. However, I did uncover an email folder I can't access. Tried the Hummel password again but it didn't work this time. I was going to take it over to Charlie, see if he can help me unlock it. Unless you think you need me here?"

Steve dismissed Chin with a grateful look, "Nah, I'd rather you get access to those emails."

After Chin left they spoke to the rest of the office, from associates down to office managers. They mostly got more of the same. Dugan was quiet, kept to herself. Her mother's illness was a huge priority for Cathleen. No one could fathom her having any sort of enemies. "Well, aside from Lawson, no one here seems like they have it in for Dugan," Steve concluded.

"Lawson is a lightweight," Danny dismissed. "Chip on her shoulder, but not the type to off someone for her job's sake."

"I agree," Steve said. "And she and Dugan were in different leagues work-wise. We should focus on tracking down Chase."

Danny glanced down at his watch, not surprised so much time had passed while they'd been questioning the large office. "Or…" he eyed his partner. "It's just after five and Catherine is probably home by now. Why don't you get out of here, show up a little early," he suggested.

"Yeah?" Steve had to admit she'd been on his mind all day. "There is something I need to do before I head to her place."

"Go, smooth things over," Danny encouraged. "We don't have jurisdiction in San Francisco anyhow, so Chase can wait. And I have a date with Monday night football."

"Alright, Danny," Steve slapped his partner's shoulder appreciatively. "Let me know if anything comes up."

000

Steve held the item in front of him like a shield, hoping she wouldn't strike if she saw it first.

That was assuming she actually opened the door for him. He'd knocked nearly two minutes ago and hadn't received an answer. And he knew she had to be home because her tiny blue corvette was hanging half way out of the garage, which was wide open again. Steve knocked a second time, a little louder. He waited, rocking back and forth on his heels. When she opened the door Steve breathed out, not realizing he'd been holding his breath.

"I'm not sorry I asked that patrol to watch your house last night," he spoke first.

"Was that an apology?" Catherine eyed him dubiously.

"I am sorry I didn't tell you about it," Steve added.

Catherine relaxed a little. "Is that for me?" she asked, focused on the single white plumeria flower he was holding.

He nodded and reached out to tuck the flower behind her left ear.

She noticed his action seemed deliberate and it warmed her to realize. Catherine knew about the Polynesian tradition of a woman's placement of the flower. Over the right ear if she was seeking out a relationship and over the left if she was taken. There was little doubt in her mind that Steve knew the custom as well. "I'm sorry I went to your office this morning and blew up at you like that. Truth is I was more upset with myself than anything."

"Why's that?" he was curious.

"Stupid horror movies, I guess," she mumbled, stepping inside to allow him entrance. "I went chasing after a noise in my backyard that could've turned out to be something a lot worse than a snooping police office," Catherine berated herself.

"Hey, come here," Steve finally closed the door behind him before he enveloped her in a hug. One arm went around her shoulder, the other her back. He held her for a long time before he realized Danny had been right. "Catherine," he pulled out of their embrace a little, forehead resting against hers, hands on either side of her face. "You know I'd never want you to be something you're not, right? You don't have to apologize for being upset, or scared. If you were scared," he didn't want to presume.

"Maybe a little," she shrugged.

His tough guy exterior faltered as he listened to the soft note of vulnerability in her voice. "Seeing you hurt makes me…"

"Shh," Catherine hushed him with her lips, a brief moment of salvation for them both. It broke her heart to hear him sound the least bit helpless. She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against his shoulder, mindful not to crush the flower he'd given her. Catherine had never thought of herself as the sort needing rescue, but she couldn't help feel completely safe in his presence. "Have you found out anything more about Dugan's death?" she offered a step away from the serious topic of their feelings.

"Not really," he kept her close. "A bunch of random stuff that I'm not even sure links up," Steve let his hands drop to her waist as he leaned in and initiated another kiss. When he glanced down, Steve finally noticed that she was wearing some sort of navy blue item with silver stars on it. The thing even had a ruffle along the bottom. "Do you have an apron on?"

Catherine pulled away from him abruptly. "Crap, my muffins!" she exclaimed, darting off toward the kitchen.

Chuckling softly at her reaction, Steve followed her to the kitchen. He found her standing in front of the oven with both hands on her hips, similar to how she'd looked that morning in his office, except with flour in her hair and a smile on her face. The timer on the oven was still counting down, three and a half minutes to go. Steve used the time to wrap his arms around her from behind. "I have something important I want to talk about," he spoke softly in her ear, his chin rested against her shoulder.

"Oh, yeah?" she turned to look at him with a spark of desire in her eyes.

"Not that kind of something," Steve grudgingly replied.

Before he could say anything else the oven's timer blared, a rather shrill beep-beep-beep that cut through the otherwise peaceful kitchen.

Steve watched Catherine kill the buzzer, open the oven and bend over to check on the golden-topped muffins. "Although…" he suddenly recalled what Danny had mentioned about make-up sex. "I seem to be having flashbacks to that bakery fantasy you once mentioned," he said aloud. Steve attempted to shake those thoughts from his head, trying not to go there when he'd planned to talk to her about something serious.

Catherine faced him, muffin pan in one hand. "I wonder if we could combine that with your foxhole fantasy," she winked.

"Muffins in a foxhole?" Steve was significantly distracted again, mulling over the possibilities those images offered up. "That could be fun," he grinned. Watching her pluck muffins out of the hot pan and transfer them to a wire rack was sexier than he cared to admit. He'd watched her cook before. She didn't do it often, and was usually more likely to whip up a batch of her grandmother's ragu than bake muffins. Either way, Steve had to admit that the Neanderthal side of him enjoyed watching her in the kitchen.

"Those muffin MREs aren't bad," Catherine fueled his fantasy, "Especially the maple ones."

He was struck again by how much his life had been brightened by her presence the last few years. Her ability to transition from a serious discussion into a teasing manner in such a subtle way was just one of the many things he found endearing about her. Steve thought again about the ring he'd been searching for the day before, and the fancy restaurant he'd planned to take her to. Presently, the ring and the setting didn't seem to matter as much as the question.

With surprisingly little trepidation, Steve went down on one knee while she still had her back turned toward him.

"I can't believe I woke up at four this morning and mixed up this huge batch of muffin batter," Catherine spoke as she closed the oven door and picked up the pan again. "I guess I inherited my mother's habit of cooking when stressed," she declared. "I suppose that's better than eating when stressed. Anyhow, you'll have to take some of these to work tomorrow, give them to Chin and Danny. I don't know what I was thinking. I have nearly five dozen muffins here."

Catherine turned around, planning to walk the pan over to the sink, but she didn't see him on the floor in time to stop herself from tripping over his knee.

Steve watched the muffin pan slip from her grasp. It dropped onto the white tile floor with a loud clang. But he wasn't worried about the pan as his hands shot out, hoping to catch Catherine before she fell. He caught her waist, but not swiftly enough to stop her head from colliding with the edge of a cabinet door. "Cath," he winced, easing the rest of her fall with his weight balancing her. Steve knelt in front of her on the floor as she leaned her back against the cabinet.

"What just happened?" she held her forehead, feeling slightly dazed.

With his pride rather wounded by the fact that his second attempted proposal had just caused her bodily harm, he covered, "I saw a measuring cup or something on the floor. Went to pick it up and…" Steve stopped, realizing she was fairly good at spotting a lie. He figured the less he said about it the better. "Jeez, you're bleeding," he watched droplets of blood slip past the fingers she had pressed against her forehead. "You have a med kit?" Steve realized he didn't know her house as well as she knew her way around his place.

"In the bathroom," she mumbled, "Middle shelf of the linen cabinet."

Catherine remained on the floor as he left the kitchen. Her head was rather sore and she was pretty certain she'd just split it open again very close to where El Condor's thugs had wacked her a week ago. She closed her eyes for a second, thinking she'd heard a strange sound - something like a high-pitched whimper. For a moment she thought maybe her head was ringing from the hit, but it really hadn't been that bad of a fall. Catherine got to her feet, grabbed a dish towel off the counter and pressed it against her head.

She exited the kitchen, catching another hint of the same whining sound. It led her to the doorway between her house and the garage.

"What are you doing?" Steve's voice caused her to jump and spin around.

"Do not sneak up on me like that," she hissed. Her gaze rapidly returned to the garage door. "I think there's someone in there. Do you have your weapon?" Catherine asked.

"Calm down," he put a hand against her shoulder.

With a shrug she maneuvered away from his touch. "Don't tell me to calm down. Last night I nearly shot a cop because I had myself so worked up. Now…" she trailed off, hearing the noise again. Catherine pointed to the door. "Tell me you didn't just hear that," she whispered.

"I heard it," Steve nodded. He held the med kit in one hand and turned the door's knob with his other.

"Steve, wait, you should be armed," Catherine murmured. He clearly didn't seem to care as he opened the door, exposing them to whoever was in her garage about to attack. A second after the door opened Catherine's gaze widened considerably as she looked down and spotted something non-human in her garage. "What… why is there a…" she starred at the animal, a rather tranquil yellow Labrador with a blue collar that was nudging its damp nose against Catherine's palm. "There's a dog tied up in my garage."

"Surprise," Steve uttered, a bit disappointed that his gift presentation had gone about as well as his proposal.

"This is your doing?" she couldn't stop the smile that formed as the adorable canine licked her hand. "You got me a dog?"

He nodded, "Yep." Steve carefully unlashed the dog before turning over the lead to Catherine. The three of them moved inside the house. Catherine sat down on the sofa and the dog followed her, sitting obediently at her feet. "I thought about getting you a puppy," Steve said as he settled in beside them with the med kit. "But with our work schedules I figured that might not be the best idea," he watched Catherine smile, already smitten with the animal.

"I dropped off Dugan's cat at the shelter today and this girl was there," Steve revealed, eyeing the dog. "All the other dogs were barking, drawing attention to them. This one just sat there in her pen, patiently watching me," he explained. "According to the shelter she's about two years old. They rescued her a few months ago from a home that had nearly two dozen dogs locked up in tiny basement kennels."

"Poor thing," Catherine sighed as she patted the dog's head. The Lab instantly nuzzled her snout against Catherine's lap and seemed to relish the human contact.

It was pretty easy to see the two of them were already becoming well acquainted. "She didn't have any papers, no identity when they took her in," Steve further explained. "They were planning to put her down next week if no one came to adopt her. So if you agree to keep her, you get to name her," he concluded.

"Who knew you were such a sucker for a hopeless cause?" she looked to Steve, admiration etched across her smile. "I thought you didn't like dogs?"

"Not true," his head shook. "I've just never had one before. Do you think you'll keep her? I know this was kind of spare of the moment for me, which is rare," Steve rested one hand atop the dog's soft yellow coat. "I got her that blue collar tonight before I picked her up. It's your favorite color so I figured…"

Catherine stopped him by placing a feather-light kiss against his cheek. "You didn't think I'd say no, did you?" her question wasn't one she expected an answer to. "She seems like a real sweetheart. I'm going to call her Trooper," Catherine announced. "And you're not as sly as you think you are, sailor," she eyed Steve again. "I know why you did this. She's meant to be added protection, right?"

"That idea did cross my mind when I first saw her," he admitted before opening the med kit. "Trooper, huh?" Steve smiled as he pulled out antiseptic and bandages. "Last night you mentioned the Diamond Dolls, now this. I think you enjoyed your roller derby days, didn't you?"

"Days, as in _two_," she noted. "And, yes, I did have a little bit of fun on the team. I still prefer ice skating, though." Catherine kept one hand against the dog as Steve cleaned her wound with an antiseptic wipe. "I was actually thinking more along the lines of her being a trooper after all she's been through, being caged. And yet she's so behaved."

"Dogs are a good judge of character," Steve said. "They know when someone's going to treat them right. Although I have to wonder what kind of guard dog she'll be for you."

"I think she'll know when to protect, and when to relax," Catherine replied.

He nodded, hoping she was right. Steve continued to clean her wound, glad that it hadn't been worse. His thoughts slipped to a dark place for a moment. All of his worry the last week and a half seemed to coincide with Dugan's case and her mother's plight. "Cath, can I ask you something kind of personal?"

"Of course," she nodded, noticing the worry clouding his stormy blue eyes.

"Do you ever check yourself for…" Steve shook his head. He was about to let the question slide, but he finally manned up and spit out the words. "Do you check for lumps, you know… like possible breast cancer and all that?"

Catherine didn't know what she'd been expecting when he mentioned a personal question, but it certainly hadn't been that. The concern she could see flash in his eyes caused her heart to ache a little. "Yeah, I do," she quickly assured him. "My doctor checks as well. Never had anything out of the ordinary," she relayed in a serious tone. "And she says I don't need to worry about a yearly mammogram for another few years."

"Good, that's good," he breathed out nervously. "I was just thinking about Dugan's mom and what she went through. And… well, it would be a shame if anything were to happen to your very lovely… you know," Steve waved a hand at her chest. "Not that I wouldn't still find you sexy if you didn't have any…" he realized he had entered some very uncomfortable territory and wasn't sure how to back out.

"I appreciate the sentiment," Catherine let him off the hook, though she was immensely touched by his concern. She watched him closely for a while as he finished tenderly bandaging her forehead. She noticed that he'd seemed rather distracted from the moment he'd arrived. Catherine wasn't sure if it still had to do with her safety or not. "You mentioned earlier about having something to talk about," she remembered. "Was this it?"

"No. I…" Steve realized his plan had fallen through. There was no way he could propose to her now, certainly not after wounding her and asking about breast exams.

She yawned before he could say anything more. "Sorry," Catherine felt bad. "I didn't sleep very well last night and it's your fault," she declared.

"Cath, I told you I was sorry about not mentioning the patrol," he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, guessing her flower had ended up on the kitchen floor.

"It's not that," she assured. "I couldn't sleep because…" Catherine felt her throat tighten. "All my life I've been able to fall asleep anywhere, Steve. We moved so much when I was a kid that I could just lay down in bed, wherever, any country, and be dead to the world for eight hours. I could sleep soundly on air planes or a moving ship in the middle of the ocean. But now I can't seem to sleep well unless you're beside me," she confessed.

He closed his eyes for a second and breathed out slowly. "I've been having that same issue," Steve revealed, realizing her confession was just the opening he needed. "Move in with me?" he proposed the idea to her. "My place… you, me and Trooper?"

A smile lit her eyes. "Is this because you have a better security system?" Catherine teased.

"Yes," he nodded. "Exactly. Because of my security system," Steve shifted forward and kissed her, hoping she was leaning toward a yes response.

"One condition," she said.

Steve sat back, slightly confused by her comment. "What do you mean?"

"I'll move in with you on one condition," Catherine declared.

"Name it," he eagerly agreed. "Anything…" Steve took a moment to think and suddenly recanted, "Wait a sec, what sort of condition?"

Catherine grinned mischievously. "I'll tell you later." She stood and took his hand in hers, tugging him to his feet. "First I plan to make us dinner and we're going to eat it sitting at a table with utensils and napkins, like civilized people," she laid down the law.

"And then we can pack your stuff?" he asked, trailing after her much the same as her new dog.

"Maybe," she replied.

000

"Get down," Steve ordered. "Dowwwn," he enunciated the word when the dog didn't budge, her big black eyes just staring at him.

"Trooper, get down from there," Catherine said as she entered Steve's office dressed in full work attire. Upon her command the dog immediately jumped off the sofa. Morning sunlight streamed in through the window behind the couch, golden light illuminating the space. "What a good girl," Catherine spoke softly to the animal as she sat down beside Steve. The dog patiently repositioned herself on the floor in front of them.

Steve hated to admit defeat, but the dog clearly obeyed Catherine better. "Not even twenty-four hours and she listens to you like you raised her from a puppy," he remarked. There was no denying he was impressed by the quick bond they'd formed. Steve watched as Catherine broke off a small bit of her blueberry muffin and fed it the dog. "You know I did leave some dog food in your garage. I don't think muffins are healthy for dogs," he said. "Not to mention you're going to spoil her from the start."

She leaned over and smiled covertly at the dog as she scratched behind Trooper's ear. Catherine had already learned it was a favorite spot for the animal. "Don't pay any attention to him. He's a bit of a grouch in the morning until his coffee kicks in."

"Great, I inadvertently gave you a best friend to talk behind my back with," Steve grumbled.

Catherine chuckled as she returned her attention to the man snuggled beside her. She broke off another muffin morsel and fed it to Steve. Then she patted his head. "Good boy," she taunted. His look of mock-contempt caused her to laugh louder. Catherine kissed him, a soft, adoring caress to appease him. "Sorry," she whispered against his lips.

He took the muffin from her and set it aside. His arms slinked around her as their bodies moved to match the horizontal of the sofa. Steve laid her out underneath him, his cargo pants and t-shirt attire hovering above her Navy camies. "Now do you think I'm grouchy?" he whispered, his lips hovering teasingly against hers.

"You must have slept well last night," she murmured, gently trying to command his body toward hers. It didn't take much urging on her part before he gave in, but after only a few minutes Catherine reluctantly twisted away from his caresses. "We shouldn't," her breathing was labored. "I have to go to work soon and…"

"I can be fast," Steve offered. "And there's a locker room in the basement. We can shower after…"

"Yes, but…" she bit her bottom lip, resolve slipping a bit further as she thought about how she didn't want him to go fast. "We could traumatize the dog," Catherine lamely tried to protest. But Steve's lopsided smile and the touch of his deft fingers against her belly destroyed the last bit of firmness she'd been hanging on to. She gave herself over to him, mind and body, ridiculously impressed by the way he left most of her clothing in place. "The camies really do turn you on," she giggled, amused as their bodies joined.

She both hated and loved the way he kept his promise of being fast. Catherine never failed to be awed by his power to urge her body toward prolonged satisfaction or quick release.

They managed to bypass the early morning crowd in the lobby by taking the elevator to the basement. The locker room was small, six bright red metal lockers and three cream-colored tile showers that had been installed specifically for Five-0 use upon the inception of the task force. "I like this," Steve whispered as he stripped down and joined her in the shower. "Kind of feels like I'm sneaking you into my boot camp barracks or something," he said, stalking toward her.

"Is that all you think about, military sexual shenanigans and foxhole fantasies?" Catherine held an arm out, pressing her palm against his chest to keep him at bay. "We're here to get clean. We can't do this," she waved a hand at his lower anatomy. "Not again."

He pouted. "So I'm meant to just watch you shower, naked… and not touch you?"

"The art of restraint," she quipped. "Try something new. You might like it."

"Doubt it," he grumbled, still reaching for her.

"I told you I need to get to work," Catherine insisted.

His arms dropped as a new thought entered his head. "So, when your work hours are not as strict, can I bring you back down here for a morning shower?"

"You're incorrigible," she sighed.

"I know what that word means," he replied, stepping underneath the hot spray of water.

They returned to Five-0 HQ fifteen minutes later, his short hair already dry, hers damp but pulled back again in regulation form. Trooper trotted over to them, her tail wagging as she looked up at Catherine. "I like this morning better than yesterday," Steve said as his arms wrapped around her waist again, not ready to let her go just yet.

"Agreed," she gave in to another sensual kiss.

When the front office doors opened, the two of them sprang apart, straightening their clothing and standing at military attention. Catherine and Steve turned away from one another and grabbed muffins from the tray on the tech table. They chewed quietly, trying not to look like teenagers who'd just been caught by their parents. "I made muffins," Catherine announced to Chin and Danny as they entered.

"Hey, Catherine," Danny tried again to greet the woman cheerily.

"Sorry about yesterday," she apologized, feeling very rude for the way she'd acted.

"No worries," Danny smiled to see she and Steve looked a fair sight more relaxed in each other's presence.

"Is there something wrong we should know about?" Chin inquired, genuinely concerned when he spotted the small bandage on Catherine's head. The mysterious photos delivered to Steve had them all on edge in regard to Catherine's safety.

"This?" Catherine ran a finger across her forehead where Steve had applied a clean, dry bandage after their shower. "Accident. I ran in to a kitchen cabinet."

"A cabinet?" Danny questioned the validity of that statement as he eyed the dog in their office.

"You see," Steve shook his head at the woman next to him. "I told you to tell them it was a training exercise or a surfing accident. Saying you ran into a kitchen cabinet makes me look like an abusive boyfriend," he bemoaned.

She grinned happily to hear him use the term boyfriend. "You guys probably need to get to work," her mood turned a bit somber knowing they were still trying to figure out what had happened to Dugan. "And I should be going," she bent down and clipped a leash to Trooper's blue collar. "I have work, and I should drop Trooper off at home first," Catherine leaned in and kissed Steve, a quick peck. "I'll see you tonight?" she watched him nod. "And we'll take care of my one condition, yes?"

"Yes, yes we will," Steve nodded, waving her off. When she was out the door and out of sight, Steve fiddled with the computer table while softly humming to himself.

"Something you want to share with the group, Steven?" Danny prodded, noticing the odd behavior of his friend.

Steve looked up at the two men he'd come to depend on, and who he considered family. "Seriously guys the thing on her forehead really was an accident," he insisted. "I kind of startled her last night and she fell and hit her head. It was…" he trailed off. "Never mind, it's not important."

"Not important?" Danny tapped his foot against the floor. "So are you saying that Sunday morning when we spent over two hours looking at rings, that wasn't important? What was she startled about?" he asked, "The marriage proposal, right? You went for it?"

Chin was instantly curious about that revelation. "You proposed to Catherine?" a smile quickly replaced the look of shock on his face.

"I…" Steve pursed his lips for a second. "I did, yes," he nodded slowly and deliberately. "I proposed that she and I should," it was no use lying to them, "That we should live together. And then I gave her a dog. Actually, it was the other way around, but…"

Danny and Chin stared at their friend for a long time after that.

"Are you serious?" Danny finally asked. "I thought maybe she was watching that dog for a friend. You don't even like dogs."

"That's not true," Steve denied. "Why does everyone assume that? I've just never spent much time around them. My dad was allergic."

"Don't the two of you already live together?" Chin was still stuck on the other aspect of McGarrett's revelation.

"No, we do not live together," Steve replied, feeling like he was in front of a judge and jury. "Catherine tends to stay with me a lot, but she still has a place of her own that she pays rent on. So I suggested she could stop paying rent and move in with me."

"You proposed that she could save money by living with you?" Danny shook his head and rubbed his chin.

"It's the truth," Steve shrugged.

"Yeah, no… of course it's true," Danny nodded, one arm flung outward. "No, I get it. I totally get it. I just never realized what a hopeless romantic you are," the man tried hard not to laugh. "Exactly how many times were you dropped as a child?"

"Just once when I was three and my dad threw me on the bed. I hit the wall, though, so it's not like he actually dropped me. And we were just playing a game…" Steve looked up to see looks of surprise on his co-worker's faces. "You weren't actually being serious."

"Well, it explains a lot," Chin spoke more to Danny than Steve. Danny nodded.

"Are you telling me you never dropped Grace?" Steve challenged Danny's parenting.

With wide eyes, both Danny's hands shot into the air. "No, Steven, I never dropped my daughter. Never. Hard to believe, but no," a small, irritated sigh escaped the man's lips. "What's going on with you? I thought marriage was what you were going for. What happened to all of that?"

"I thought so, too, but…" Steve shrugged. "Maybe I'm just not ready for that step yet."

"You're not ready?" Danny scoffed. He and Chin both laughed softly for a while at that comment from their friend. They didn't mean to seem indelicate, though. Danny quickly regained a serious look. "What man is ever actually ready for marriage? No one, that's who," he answered his own question, trying to sympathize. "Marriage is a risk, my friend. It's a gamble, just like the rest of life. Sometimes you take the plunge and it lasts for two years or maybe ten, fifty or more if you're lucky."

Chin nodded his agreement. "If you wait to be ready you'll probably be single forever," he concluded. "I almost made that mistake."

Steve stood there a moment regarding two of his very best friends. One whose marriage had ended in divorce, the other who'd lost his wife to a horrible gunshot wound because of their job. And he couldn't help think of Kono who was traipsing across Asia with Adam, running for her life but also following her heart. Then there was Catherine, leaving her secure job with the Navy in order to be closer to him. All of them had made huge leaps of faith for love. Yet he was still having trouble getting his head and his heart to work in tandem.

"You want to tell me what really happened last night with the proposal and all that?" Danny did his best to be supportive rather than mocking.

With a resigned sigh Steve leaned against the computer table, arms folded. "I've never been so completely inept when dealing with a woman before," Steve proceeded to tell them about being down on his knee and then practically tackling Catherine into the cupboard. "I don't know what happened. It's like I became a complete idiot for several minutes."

"Smooth dog lost his smooth," Danny commented, trying to keep from laughing. "It's called nerves," he finally declared.

"Danny's right," Chin agreed.

"No guys, I've never been nervous about anything before," Steve insisted.

"Pretty sure that's not true," Chin wasn't buying it. "I don't think he meant to betray your trust, but your father once mentioned to me about how nervous you'd always get before every big football game in high school. And that's insignificant compared to asking a woman to marry you."

"Took me four tries before I finally got up the courage to ask Rachael," Danny revealed.

"I asked Malia twice before we made it official," Chin reminded them both.

"Why doesn't anyone tell you this stuff beforehand?" Steve groaned.

The master computer chimed, interrupting their conversation.

Chin tapped an icon on the touchscreen. "Charlie, you're the best," he said aloud, pulling up the files from Dugan's computer that had been password protected. He only scanned them briefly before turning to his team. "I think you both should read these," Chin immediately swiped the email messages on to an upright monitor for them.

"All of these are between Dugan and mchase at mlc dot com," Steve noticed right away. "Martin Chase, our missing partner." He studied the user pictures associated with their email accounts. Dugan looking professional. Chase's head shot revealed a Caucasian male. Mid-thirties. Dark, wavy hair. Hazel eyes. Thick black-rimmed glasses.

"Take a look at this," Chin redirected their attention to a different monitor. "This is security footage from Harrington's apartment building on Saturday night, which I didn't realize might be significant until now," Chin froze the video, focusing on a man in black slacks and navy button shirt. "He look familiar?"

"Martin Chase," Danny realized it was the same man.

"Billy never told us he had a visitor the night Dugan was killed," Steve recalled.

"To be fair, we never asked him that," Danny pointed out.

"Harrington got home at 9:07pm and Chase arrived five minutes later," Chin paused a second, "Then there's about forty-five minutes between Chase coming and going."

Steve nodded. "Enough time to have a beer, maybe chat about a murder plan," he surmised.

000

"You lied to us the other day," Steve accused as he stood before Harrington in the office space that was under construction.

Billy's eyes narrowed. "Pretty sure I didn't," he replied. He motioned with one hand, conveying to the construction crew to stop work. Equipment was silenced almost instantly and three men ducked out of the area to give them some privacy. "I'm assuming this is still about Dugan's murder?"

"Yes, and now it involves your friend, Martin Chase," Steve persisted. "We know Chase was at your apartment Saturday night for about forty-five minutes. He left roughly an hour before Dugan's time of death, plenty of time to get her to the north shore. And before you try to deny any of it, we have security camera footage of him coming and going to prove it."

Harrington nodded. "Okay, he visited me. So what?"

"Why was he there?" Steve asked the obvious question.

"He's a friend of mine," Billy reminded them. "We went to dinner then watched part of a movie, but Marty left early. He had to catch a flight to San Francisco the next morning."

Steve knew that to be a truthful statement. "Did you know Martin Chase lent Cathleen a lot of money to help pay for her mother's medical costs? Or that he paid her in cash? We found a ton of emails between the two of them about it," Steve conveyed, hoping for some reaction from Billy. When he got none, Steve continued. "Did you know she was threatening to expose some secret of his in exchange for not having to pay back the money?" Steve looked the man in the eye. "You did know about that."

"Yes, I knew," Billy breathed out heavily. "Marty's been my friend since we were kids and he tells me everything. He told me what was going on. I felt awful because I was the one who suggested her for a job at his firm. Dugan was a good person but I think her mother's death and the grief, I don't know… it can change people."

Danny had to agree about grief doing crazy things to people. But seeing the unconvinced look in Steve's eye, he took over the questioning for a moment. "How bad did you feel about getting Dugan the job, maybe bad enough to take care of the problem for Chase?"

"That's ridiculous," Billy's head shook adamantly. "I wouldn't kill anyone for Chase, especially not Dugan. The only time I was ever forced to take a life it was for my country," he defended himself. "Look, Marty was only really here Saturday night because I asked him to take something to my dad since he was going to be in San Francisco."

"What was it?" Steve demanded.

With another sigh, Billy replied to the interrogation. "My dad likes to smoke. I know it's a horrible addiction, but sometimes you just can't change an old man's habits. I bought some cigars at a shop here on the island that was not exactly legit. I knew they were illegal, but it's hardly the worst crime," Harrington shrugged. "Marty is a good guy. He never would've given Cathleen the money in the first place if he hadn't wanted to help her out."

Steve considered that declaration for a moment, but there was more going on and he wanted to know what. "Do you know the secret Dugan was threatening to expose? The emails we found conveniently never mentioned that."

Billy shook his head again. "No, he never told me."

"I'm going to check your story about the cigars," Steve warned the man. "And I'm going to track down Chase and have a nice long chat with him. If either doesn't check out I'll be back to have this talk with you all over again. I will get to the truth, Billy. You can trust that."

"Fair enough," Harrington agreed.

On their way out, Steve and Danny let the construction crew know it was okay to return. Danny eyed his partner several times as they headed toward the elevator, trying to read the man's mood. "Do you believe what he said about not knowing Chase's secret?" Danny finally asked.

"No. He knows," Steve was sure.

* * *

**To be continued…**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Hawaii Five-0_.

* * *

**You Owe Me  
****Part 4**

By  
N. J. Borba

* * *

"We've got a problem," Chin announced as soon as they arrived back at HQ.

Steve made his way over to the surface console in the middle of the room. He'd been thinking they had a problem all the way back to the palace. After his uncomfortable second meeting with Billy, doubts had begun to creep in again. There was something off about Harrington that he couldn't quite figure out. He was sure his old friend knew something about Chase that he wasn't telling them. Steve just didn't know if it had to do with the case, or with Catherine. The latter was what really had him bothered.

Chin displayed a list of phone numbers on the main screen. "Martin Chase is missing," he carried on from his first announcement. "I found a plane ticket to San Francisco booked in his name, purchased three months ago. He'd been due to depart Sunday morning, as his receptionist said, and Billy confirmed. He hired a taxi to the airport, but when I checked the taxi service, they say he wasn't home. They waited nearly twenty minutes, couldn't get ahold of him and left. And according to flight passenger logs, he never got on that flight."

"Maybe he took a different flight?" Danny tossed the idea out.

"That's what I figured, too," Chin nodded. "However, there are no records of him on any other flight Sunday, Monday or even today. I searched Honolulu and all surroundings island airports. Nothing. Also, I just spoke with the woman in charge of the AIA conference in San Francisco that Chase was meant to be attending this week. He signed up three months ago for a spot in the conference and they booked him a hotel room. Then I called Chase's father in San Francisco. He claims Martin was going to meet him for dinner last night but never showed, and he hasn't heard from his son since Sunday. So all indications are that Chase was planning to attend the conference and see his father."

"Or he wanted to make it look that way," Steve shrugged. "What are the numbers?" he pointed at the screen.

"Chase's cell phone log from the past five days, I was hoping to find something that might tell us where he is," Chin zoomed in to a small section. "Saturday he made a call to Dugan's office phone at about noon. Sunday there were calls to Harrington and to Chase's family in San Francisco. Monday there were no calls at all and nothing so far today. And I can't get a lock on his GPS to track the phone."

"So he has it off, wherever he is," Danny concluded.

"Or he murdered Dugan and then ditched the phone in the ocean with her. Then took off to hide somewhere," Steve mulled over the possibilities.

Danny pondered that theory for a moment. "Okay, where does he hide?"

"Not a clue," Steve pushed away from the table. "But I'd say we start by checking out his place. Chin, maybe you can pay another visit to Chase's office."

Six minutes later the black Camaro was cruising east toward Martin Chase's home.

With Steve at the wheel they were making good time, but Danny couldn't help cringe as he watched his fuel gage dip. It always seemed his partner's excessive use of the gas pedal coincided with his bad moods. Danny shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "So why are you so sure that Billy is lying to us?" he probed.

"My gut tells me so," Steve replied.

"Oh, your gut. Of course, I should've known," Danny nodded. "You know, I once had a gut feeling about a case. Turned out to be some bad clams I'd eaten at Theo's Clam Shack on the Jersey shore, and our B&E suspect was actually telling the truth. True story," Danny attested. He could see his partner was not in the mood to be challenged. "No, hey… gut feelings can be spot on sometimes. Your gut feeling, I'd take that over hard facts any day. I'm on your side here, you know that right?"

Steve sighed. "You think this is still about me being jealous?"

"Well, you're the one who just said the word," Danny pointed out. "So…"

With his eyes fixed on the road, Steve finally divulged his reasoning. "Billy stood there and told us that he and Chase are old friends from childhood, and that Chase tells him everything. Then, almost in the very next breath he takes, Billy suddenly has no idea what secret Dugan has got on Chase. Seems unlikely to me, therefore… gut reaction, he's lying."

Danny shrugged. "Okay, possible. But here's something to think about. I consider you one of my best friends, but I do not tell you every aspect about my life."

"You don't?" Steve poured on some fake indignation. "I'm hurt."

"Very cute, smartass," Danny returned, though he was thankful for his partner's somewhat renewed sense of humor. "I'm sure you don't tell me everything either. Do you?"

"Most stuff," McGarrett replied. "Okay, no, not everything."

"Exactly, proved my point," Danny declared. "Even most married couples don't tell each other everything," he insisted. "I'm sure you and Catherine have a ton of stuff you've never touched on. I know me and Rachael had plenty we didn't talk about. My point is, everyone has secrets, some big and some small. Chase might not have told Harrington and you could be all bent out of shape for no good reason."

"Yes, okay, maybe Billy doesn't know," Steve yielded a little. He took a quick breath. "But I still think he does."

The Camaro pulled to a stop in Chase's driveway and they got out.

"You've always gotta be right, don't you?" Danny shook his head as they walked around the three-car garage toward the front entry.

"No, I don't always have to be right. But not winning an argument and having the last word are two different matters," Steve reasoned.

An annoyed sigh escaped Danny's lips. "Do you ever give up when you fight with Catherine?"

Steve grinned. "Catherine is right a lot more often than you, Danny."

As they approached the front door their jovial mood dissolved. The heavy wood and glass door was hanging open about a foot and they pulled weapons before stepping inside Chase's place. "Whoa," Danny stood still for a moment then exchanged a glance with Steve who had also stopped just inside the door. "This is… interesting," Danny took another small step forward. "Some sort of new deconstruction decorating trend I've never heard of before?"

With an uncertain shrug, Steve followed Danny inside.

They entered a two-story great room with windows that reached to the top of a gable-peaked roof, which gave way to sweeping views of the beach and waterfront. But the home's interior had been extremely picked apart. Every wall had holes torn in to it. Glass cabinets had been shattered. In the kitchen, bamboo cabinets where hanging off their hinges. It looked like someone had gone through with a sledgehammer with the intention of demolishing the place, but had only gotten half way finished.

"Clearly someone was looking for something," Steve stated.

"Yeah, sure, I'll give you that…" Danny paused. "But this is a bit of overkill, don't you think? Some of these are three foot diameter holes in the walls," he pointed out. "What were they searching for in here? King Kong's long lost love child?"

Steve spun around to stare at his partner. "Some days I don't want to know what goes on in that head of yours, Danny," Steve peered inside one of the larger holes. "There's nothing here other than a 2x4 framed wall. I think whoever hired the guys to search this place got some overly excited teenagers. Amateurs for sure."

"My money is on them looking for a wall safe," Danny commented.

"Not a bad theory," Steve agreed as he made a gesture for them to split up and search the house.

They reconvened ten minutes later. "Found three bedrooms upstairs," Danny reported. "Only one with furniture and clothes, and a partially packed suitcase. This was inside it," Danny held up a small rectangular wood box with his left hand. He opened it to show Steve the six snuggly packed cigars inside. "That tracks with what Billy told us," he noted. "But I found more holes in the walls upstairs. However, the laundry room was surprisingly cat free," he joked.

"Doesn't really seem like the pet type. This place is like a museum, barely lived in," Steve remarked after having ventured through several thousand square feet of polished marble floors and pristinely white furniture. "His car is parked in the locked garage, keys on a hook by the front door. Whoever was here didn't want the car or other valuables. This guy has about a twenty thousand dollar theater system in his media room that is untouched."

"Do architects really make this much money?" Danny wondered. "I could've done that. Draw a few pictures, how hard can that be?"

"I've seen your stick figures, Danny. Trust me; you made the right career choice," Steve shook his head. "I did find this in his study," he held up a ten inch tablet computer. "I say we get it back to Chin and have him look it over." Steve was about to head for the door when his cell rang. He unconsciously smiled when he saw Catherine's name on the screen. But the case and his worry for her caused him to answer with caution, "What's wrong?"

"_Why do you assume something is wrong_?"

His smile returned, glad to hear her voice. "Sorry, how are you?"

"_I'm Fine… hey, I know we agreed to meet tonight about that thing_,_ but I have some time off this afternoon and was wondering if there's any chance you're free for lunch right now? If not its cool, we can take care of it later. I just figured the soon we do it, the sooner I can pack and…_"

"I agree," Steve cut her off, nodding to his self. "I think I should be able to make that happen."

"_Good, I'll text you the location. Bye_."

He smiled again to hear the note of excitement in her voice. Steve eyed his partner as they made their way outside to the Camaro. "When we get back to HQ, would you mind if I take off for a while to meet up with Catherine? Lunch date."

"Course not. We've got no lead on Chase yet. Is everything okay with Catherine?" Danny asked.

"Yep, great," Steve sank in to the drives seat of Danny's car. But despite how much he cared about Catherine and wanted her to live with him, he grimaced a little when he got her text and noticed the location where she wanted to meet him. "She may have mentioned one tiny condition to her moving in with me."

Danny's brows arched with curiosity. He waited a moment for Steve to continue, but when he didn't Danny prodded him. "Judging by your up and down mood, I'm guessing it's not something you're too keen on? What? She demanding a new walk-in closet? Maybe a kitchen remodel? If that's the case, I'm afraid I have to agree with her. That kitchen of yours could certainly use a new fan/exhaust system for the stove."

Steve rolled his eyes. "No, it's neither of those things. It's not that big of a big deal, really. You know I just don't like change very much."

With a barely contained snicker, Danny nodded in response to Steve's comment. "Really? You don't like change? Funny, I never would've guessed that about you," he finally laughed outright. "Well, my friend, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you're about to live with a woman full time. Get ready for some serious changes in your life."

"Right," Steve swallowed that news as he put the car in gear.

000

"I'm leaning toward this one," Catherine pointed to the one on the left.

"Are you sure about this?" Steve glanced at the two different models they'd narrowed their choice to. It had only taken them a half hour to go from fifty models down to two. But he was still very much on the fence in regard to either choice.

Catherine did her best not to be upset with him. She had sprung the idea on him less than a day ago and knew he was slow to adjust to new things, though his offer for her to move in had seemed rather spare of the moment to her. It was obvious to her that part of his rash decision was due to his worry for her safety. But she also couldn't help feel there was more than just worry behind the idea of moving in together. Catherine knew it was going to be a huge step for both of them to adjust to.

"This is the one thing I'd like to have at _your_ place," she insisted. "It was your parent's house, your childhood home. And I think that's great, I really do. I love tradition and I love that it's right on the water which is great for surfing and for our early morning runs. But everything in that house is a part of your past, Steve," she tried to delicately get the point across without seeming needy. "I'd just really like for us to have one thing that will be ours, something for our future."

Hearing her reasoning, Steve felt awful for his reluctance and wrapped a comforting arm about her shoulder. He kissed her temple. "You're right. We should do this," Steve agreed, though he looked slightly askance at the items again. "How do we do this? Rock, paper, scissors?" he suggested.

She chuckled but shook her head. "How about a trial run?"

"You mean here? Right here in the middle of the store?" his smile was half delighted, half disbelieving.

"Easy there, big guy. Not that kind of trial," Catherine lightly swatted his shoulder. "I meant with our clothes on," she clarified, grasping his hand and walking him closer to the wood framed model. "This is my favorite," she reaffirmed her previous statement and looked to him to see if he approved or not. Catherine could read the indecisiveness still etched in the lines of his forehead. She let go of his hand, deftly pried off her uniform boots and flopped down on the bed.

Catherine curled up on her right side, resting her head against the display pillow.

Steve stood there a moment, grinning at her.

He couldn't help admire the bed, though. The headboard consisted of equally spread out wooden slates, open space between them. It was a simple, clean design with a light stain that brought out the natural grain of the wood. The bed was nice, not overly modern but cozy looking. He could see it blending in just fine in the bedroom they were about to share. But the bed didn't seem half as important as the woman currently laying in it. Steve could only think about how cute she looked laying there in the middle of the store in her uniform.

Without further prodding, Steve settled himself down beside her. He lay on his back, starring up at the horrid florescent lighting. "It feels like a bed," he declared.

"Have you always been this difficult?" Catherine asked as she inched toward him and snuggled her head against his chest. "What do you think? Honestly?"

"I think people are starting to stare at us," Steve replied, watching as a woman led her child past them with a withering glare.

"Close your eyes," Catherine said.

He turned toward her. "Have you lost your mind?"

She remained curled up beside him and reached up to gently close his eyelids with her fingers. Catherine left her hand resting gently over his eyes. "Now, imagine the sound of the ocean from the backyard," Catherine whispered in his ear. "And there's sunlight drifting in from the window behind us. We just woke up, it's a new day, birds are singing," she continued to try and paint the picture for him. "Did you sleep well in this new bed of ours?"

"Hmm, that depends…" Steve hesitated. He took her hand in his, moving it away from his eyes. His eyes remained closed, though, as he softly kissed her palm. "Did a slightly crazy, but very sexy brunette sleep next to me all night?" he asked.

"Better be me you're talking about, mister," Catherine warned in a playful tone.

"Of course, Nancy," he chirped.

"Ha…ha," she laughed dryly at his joke. "Come on, I'm trying to be serious here. What do you think about the bed?"

His eyes opened and he stared at Catherine for a long time, the rest of the store fading out of view. "I like the bed. The bed is good. Best thing about the bed is that you're in it," Steve concluded. He dipped his head a little and captured her lips with his own.

Catherine got a bit lost in the moment, savoring the sweet softness of his mouth against hers.

"A-hem," a short, stocky man with a gray suit and a bad comb-over cleared his throat. He stood at the foot of the display bed glaring at them. "Can I help you two? Are you interested in buying a bed or should I contact security?"

Steve pushed the right corner of his black t-shirt up a little to reveal his badge. "I'm Five-0."

"And I'm meant to care about that?" the man challenged. "This is a _family_ store," he insisted.

"We'll take this one, frame and mattress set," Catherine interrupted the macho head-to-head she saw brewing. "You deliver, right?" She reluctantly pulled away from Steve, removed herself from the bed and pulled her boots back on. "Can you help us with the sale?" Catherine smiled for the man, hoping his grouchy mood would blow over.

"Heather is our lead salesperson in the furniture department, she can help you," the man waved a hand toward a young blonde standing behind the department counter. Then he scowled at them one last time before walking away.

"What's with the attitude?" Steve wondered as he took Catherine's hand and walked toward the counter.

She shrugged. "How's your case going?" Catherine immediately noticed the way his hand gripped hers a little tighter upon hearing the question. She sighed. "You know you don't have to protect me. I can handle whatever is going on. Have you found out anything more about the pictures?"

"No, but…" Steve gritted his teeth. He did want to protect her from it all, but he also knew she deserved the truth. "Billy might be lying to us about something. I'm certain his friend Martin Chase is involved in Dugan's death and I think Harrington knows something about it."

"Oh," Catherine took a deep breath. "I could talk to Billy for you," she offered. "I might be less threatening."

He attempted to muffle the groan that escaped his lips, but failed. "You don't need to be involved," the words were barely out when he noticed the way she dropped his hand. "Okay, I realize that was a dumb thing to say. You're already involved," Steve acknowledged. "I just want to make sure…"

"That I stay safe," she guessed. "We can go around like this a dozen more times if you want, Steve. But I'd rather just help you."

"Are you upset that I think Billy is involved?" he questioned.

"Not upset, just… I want to know the truth," Catherine diplomatically put it.

He nodded. "That's all I want, too."

The woman at the counter smiled upon their approach. "My supervisor says you're interested in our Hana Hou bed," she held up a thin pamphlet with the bed on the cover. "It's an excellent choice, very popular. I can process that sale for you, arrange delivery and all of that. I just need to know if you will be paying with a store credit card today or…" the woman didn't get a chance to finish when they each pulled out a credit card. "Oh, um…"

"I'm paying," Catherine told the woman.

"I should pay," Steve countered.

They turned to one another again and locked eyes. "Why should you pay?" Catherine asked in a challenging tone.

"Because the bed is going to be in my," he stopped himself, "It'll be at _our_ place, so we should pay together?"

"Actually, I can only accept one method of payment," Heather put in.

Catherine tried not to smile. "It doesn't matter who pays for it," she said.

"But it's meant to be _ours_," Steve did his best to tread lightly. "So if you buy it that would make it _your_ bed."

"Payment isn't the important factor of this purchase," she surreptitiously slipped her credit card to the sales woman as she spoke to Steve. "The process of us picking it out together is the point," Catherine explained. "This isn't going to be some sort of thing where I'm stepping on your male pride, is it? Because I happen to like your maleness."

"No, no," he raised his hands in a show of surrender, smile creeping over his face. "I can have my male pride and lie in it," Steve replied. His brow wrinkled in thought. "Or make my bed and… fall on my sword?" he shrugged. "You know what, go ahead, pay for the bed," Steve insisted. He kissed her cheek and then stepped backward. "I'm just going to be over here for a few minutes while you finish up," he pointed to some vague area of the store behind him. "Let's meet at the south entrance, okay?"

Catherine laughed, shaking her head at him. "Sounds good," she agreed.

"Your husband seems very sweet," the female clerk said as she ran Catherine's credit card.

"Oh, no… uh…" Catherine faced the woman. "He's not my… we're not married."

"Sorry, my mistake," Heather smiled. "It's just that you two remind me a lot of my sister and her husband, that cute banter thing you had going on there. Sometimes you can really see how much two people love each other," she declared. "Okay," she returned her attention to the transaction. "I just need you to fill out all of the information on this delivery page and then sign the bottom for me."

Catherine thought she might be signing her life away with all the paperwork buying a bed and mattress set entailed. She signed three things, credit receipt, delivery confirmation request and warrantee agreement. "Thank you," Catherine finally said as she finished with the sales woman. She met up with Steve at the main entrance as planned. He was standing by the automatic glass sliding doors, arms crossed and looking rather snug.

She noticed he was holding a red bag with satin handles and department store logo on it. "You've only been on your own twenty minutes, what did you buy?"

He opened the bag, looked inside and smiled. "Just a little something for our new bed," Steve said before handing it over to her.

Catherine took the bag, reached in and pulled the item half way out. She promptly stuffed it back in the bag, her eyes widened. "This is for our bed, or for you?" she had to wonder.

"That's the beauty of it," he flashed his mischievous half-smile at her. "It's for all of us to enjoy."

000

"Mission accomplished?" Danny inquired when Steve walked in to the office later that afternoon.

"Affirmative," Steve replied. He wore a goofy grin as he thought about laying on the bed with Catherine in the store. And the gift he'd bought for her. Finally shaking off those memories, he gave a curt nod and swiftly turned his attention to Chin. "What did we get off Chase's tablet? Anything?"

Chin nodded and displayed the information. "This is a contract Chase and his partner, Keith Myer, recently had drawn up. It's a bill-of-sale for a thirty-five foot Ketch called the _Laule'a_."

"As in, the missing boat that probably hauled Dugan out to the middle of the ocean Saturday night?" Steve guessed.

"Seems likely," Chin replied. "Myer wasn't at the office when I went to see if any of them had heard from Chase the last few days. But I contacted him at home and he said the sale was going to be finalized sometime this week. Apparently he was selling it to partially fund the buying of a larger boat. But here's the interesting thing, Myer got a call from the Ala Wai Marina on Friday night saying the _Laule'a_ was missing."

"If Chase was buying the boat, why would he steal it?" Danny wondered.

"Doesn't matter. We need to find that boat," Steve realized. "Does Myer have GPS on it?"

"He does," Chin confirmed. "Problem is, Myer already had police search for it Saturday. They weren't able to locate it using GPS, said there was no signal broadcasting."

Steve groaned. "Chase deactivated it, just like his cell phone," his head shook in dismay. "We spoke to Myer yesterday and he never thought to mention any of this? What part of Dugan drowning and him having a missing boat didn't this guy seem to put together? We have security cameras at the Ala Wai Marina?"

"I checked them," Chin replied. "We got a grainy image of someone there that night in the vicinity of the _Laule'a_. Charlie is still trying to clear it up for us."

"We should check with the Coast Guard," Danny suggested.

"Already contacted them, they haven't had any sightings of the _Laule'a_ either," Chin let them know. "Twelve hours is a long time for Dugan to have been in the water, so I created this simulation…" he tapped a few keys and soon the main view screen was filled with an image of the island. Chin zoomed in to the North Shore. "I wanted to see if I could map out the route Dugan's body took to shore, mainly to determine where it originated."

Danny never failed to be impressed by the tech savvier members of their group. "Land or water?"

"Using the time table for when Dugan's body was first spotted on shore and rewinding approximately twelve hours," Chin played the animation for them. The shore slowly disappeared, swallowed by blue ocean that spanned toward the horizon. "And factoring in the currents and wind direction that night…" the animation stalled. "Dugan's body had to have been left in this general area," Chin concluded.

"How far from shore?" Steve questioned.

"There were swift winds that night," Chin replied. "I'm showing she had to be about fifty to sixty miles off shore."

"You think Chase left the boat out there?" Danny asked.

Steve stared at the animation as it replayed. He didn't doubt Chin's ability to guess the location within a mile or so. "Chase could've had someone pick him up out there after dropping Dugan's body," he kind of hated that his first suspect for that job was Billy. "Could've had a dingy," they'd seen that scenario play out before. "Or he might've gone over the side of the boat with Dugan if she put up any sort of fight."

"Which Max didn't find evidence of," Danny pointed out.

"And if both bodies went over, wouldn't we have found his body on shore, too?" Chin questioned.

"Not if he never got a chance to reach shore," Steve replied. "That area is known for shark activity," he concluded. Steve was pretty certain one of his partners wasn't going to like what he was about to propose.

Sure enough, Danny's head shook. "Oh, no. Not going to happen, my friend."

"Chin, do you think your uncle would be willing to lend us his boat again?" Steve asked.

000

Catherine found Billy at the new office space. "I'm impressed. They've done a lot in two days," she noticed, glancing around.

None of the original design seemed to be adversely affected by the new wall placement, it all flowed naturally. Each wall was spaced evenly with the existing column spacing, partitioning off two offices and the larger tech room Billy had mentioned to her the first time she'd visited the space. "I told Steve the truth, Catherine," Billy remarked before she could say anything more. He was seated at a desk in the middle of the space, laptop open. He looked to her with expectancy.

"Am I that transparent?" she flashed a small smile but it faded quickly. "Steve didn't send me," Catherine tried to ease in to the conversation. "In fact he'd probably be a little pissed if he knew I was here talking to you about his case. But the three of us are going to have to figure this all out if I'm going to work with you."

Billy sighed and reclined in his chair, "Maybe you shouldn't."

She leaned against one of the columns a few feet away from his desk. "That would be the easy way out," Catherine agreed.

He sensed that it was not the option she was inclined to take. "I honestly don't know what Cathy was blackmailing Chase with. It doesn't seem likely to me that she would be," Billy shrugged, clearly at a loss to figure it out. "You know her, _knew_ her," he sighed. "Cathleen was an exemplary officer."

A nod came from her. "She was," Catherine easily agreed. "But even good people can stumble. And losing her mom the way she did..."

"I know," he was quick to agree. "I know what it's like to lose a parent, which means I should've been a better friend to her, and to Marty," Harrington lamented. "Marty has been distant lately, for a few months. He used to call me at least once a week when I was on active duty. We were like brothers, shared everything. But lately he hasn't told me much about his life. I took him out to dinner Saturday night because he was leaving the next day and… I guess I thought maybe if he needed to get something off his chest he'd open up to me."

"But he didn't?" she guessed, glad that Billy was opening up a little.

"You know my mom died when I was ten," Billy watched her nod. "I was devastated by it, a lot like Dugan must have felt."

"Except you were a kid, Billy, which makes death a lot harder to cope with," Catherine sympathized.

"My dad took a new job in San Francisco to get away from the memories at home. And I was pretty lost there for a while," he recalled. "For ten years I'd only ever known a life in Seattle. I had no friends in that new place, a new school…"

"That was my life about every two years," she mentioned, still trying to be supportive.

Billy clasped his hands and leaned forward in his chair. "Marty changed everything for me. He made San Francisco feel like home. He lost his mom at a young age, too. We bonded over that," he remembered. Harrington sighed, knowing he was rambling a bit. "His family has money, Catherine. I mean a lot of it. Marty has a huge trust fund. He never would've had to work a day in his life if he didn't want to. But he loved to draw, loved to design things. Marty once told me that providing shelter for people, or giving children a school to feel safe in - a place where they could learn and grow - he said that was a thing of beauty that money couldn't buy. He had the money to give Dugan without needing repayment. And he gave her cash because that way she wouldn't have to pay taxes on it. He's a good person, Catherine. I know something is bothering him, but I also know he wouldn't hurt anyone."

"Did you tell Steve all of this?" Catherine wondered, knowing Steve would not forsake the sincere words she'd just heard from Billy.

"You know he intimidates me," Billy shook his head and lowered his gaze to the floor.

She smiled. "He does have that effect on people."

"I was a SEAL, Catherine," he looked up again, caught her eye. "I worked hard at it. I work hard at everything I do. I know Steve does as well, but there were just some aspects of that life that came easy to him. He was more than good at it. It's intimidating.

Catherine couldn't argue those facts. "If it helps, I know he puts on his pants one leg at a time just like everyone else," she tried to lighten the mood a little. But it was pretty easy to see Billy was more distressed than one small joke could release. "If you look me in the eye and tell me you didn't have anything to do with Dugan's death, if you don't know what secret Chase was hiding, and if you have no idea why those pictures of us were delivered to Steve… I'll believe you."

Harrington took a deep breath and stared into her eyes without hesitation. "There's only one secret that Marty ever kept locked down tight," he revealed.

That was not the response she'd been expecting. Catherine didn't want to believe he would protect anyone in regard to murder, even a dear friend. "You know you don't have to tell me, Billy," Catherine could see in his eyes that it had to be something important. "Only if you want to," she offered.

He nodded and made his choice in a second.

She listened intently as the details of his friend's secret poured out in an abbreviated manner. She flashed an encouraging smile for Billy. "I understand why you didn't tell Steve, but it seems like it could be something significant he'd need to know. And it shouldn't come from me," Catherine remained diplomatic on the matter.

"I'm not sure," he honestly told her. "I've been protecting Marty for a long time. I can't imagine betraying his trust. But I swear that is the only thing I've been holding back. The other stuff you mentioned about Dugan and the pictures," his head shook. "I had no part in any of that."

"I believe you," Catherine was convinced.

"You're a really good friend, Catherine. I hope you know that," Billy finally cracked a smile.

"Just remember that when you start signing my paychecks," she quipped.

000

The boat cut a meandering path through white-capped water.

A cast of golden light settled across the ocean, the sun lowering toward the west and glinting off the water's surface. By the time they'd picked up the vessel and gotten to the coordinates where Chin believed Dugan's body had been left, they were well in to the evening and losing daylight fast. "Maybe we should've contacted the Coast Guard," Danny said from his spot close to where Steve was driving the boat. "They have jurisdiction out here, not us."

"Unless we have something solid for them it doesn't make sense to call them out here," Steve replied.

"If my calculations are right," Chin glanced at the tablet he'd brought along with his animation and the coordinates. "This should be about where Dugan was dropped."

All three of them could see nothing by water on the horizon. "It's been nearly three days," Danny pointed out. "That boat could be half way to China or Russia by now."

"We've only got about a half hour left before we should turn around," Steve said. "Without daylight this is pointless."

Chin studied the horizon for another few minutes, glancing down at his computer from time to time. "West," he finally said. "Let's try further west."

A muffled hum from the engine was all they heard as the boat turned west with Steve's help and then sped forward.

Fifteen minutes later Steve and Chin were ready to call it a night, knowing the search had been a long shot at best. If the ketch had been fully rigged, the sails could've carried it just about anywhere in three days, as Danny had mentioned, and Martin Chase along with it. They shared a brief look and nodded in unison before Steve took the wheel again and began to turn them back toward shore. "We can always try again in the morning," Chin shrugged.

"Wait!" Danny shouted over the sound of the engine revving. "I think I saw something."

Steve halted his actions and the boat came to a complete stop. "Where?"

Danny pointed due west.

Their boat rocked from side to side as they slowly drifted.

"He's right," Chin abandoned his computer in favor of a set of binoculars to check out Danny's sighting. "We've got a sail boat of some sort directly west of here."

That was all Steve needed to put their boat back in motion. Within five minutes they were alongside of the sailboat. "It's the _Laule'a_," Chin confirmed.

The boat's royal blue hull was contrasted by three white, triangular sails which were whipping about in the wind. But the boat appeared to be anchored. Steve cut their boat's engine and he and Chin carefully tied off to the sailing vessel. "Danny, now would be a good time to contact the Coast Guard," Steve instructed as he and Chin climbed aboard the _Laule'a_.

"I don't like this," Chin spoke as they drew their guns and aimed in a defensive manner.

Steve led the way. "Me either," he agreed, another bad feeling brewing in his gut. They searched the narrow upper deck just by turning their heads left then right. Not seeing anything significant, Steve descended the short set of steps to the lower berth. "Damn," he grumbled as Chin came down behind him. They both stared at the very dead body of Martin Chase which was laid out on the wood planked floor.

Dried blood caked the entire left side of the man's face and a distinct smell of decay had set in. Steve holstered his weapon, pulled his t-shirt up over his nose and crouched beside the body. "Looks like a single gunshot wound to the head," he reported.

Noticing the gun in Chase's left hand, Chin sighed. "Gunshot appears to be self-inflicted. He must have killed Dugan and then himself."

That assessment didn't settle well with Steve. Following a hunch, he reached out and lifted the bottom hem of Chase's red polo shirt. "Looks like Dugan wasn't the only one who recently had some creative branding work done," he motioned for Chin to take a look.

"Same dove mark as the one Dugan had," Chin recalled, having only seen the pictures Max had taken of the brand.

"Great," Danny's voice entered their conversation as he appeared below deck. "Why is it that every time I get on a boat there's a dead guy?"

"Don't exaggerate," Steve stood and glanced around. "See if there's anything else here," he instructed.

Only a minute later Danny had something in hand. "Personal recording device," he pushed the play button on the slender metallic item.

"_If you're listening to this then I couldn't live with the lie anymore. I loved Cathy too much to see her hurting so badly. That's why I extorted the money to help her. I encouraged the contractor we worked with on the Middlehern building to make some serious cost cutting changes that would weaken the structural integrity. It was enough money for Cathy to pay off a large sum of the medical bills. But she found out I'd altered her structural work on the project. She threatened to tell Myer and…"_

The three men stared at the device a little longer, willing it to say something more.

"I guess that's it," Chin was first to break the silence.

"Is it?" Steve wondered.

"His inflection was certainly defeated," Danny noted.

Not entirely convinced, Steve noticed something white peeking out from a draw across the lower deck. He walked forward, stepping carefully over the body. Steve opened the drawer and pulled out a white envelope. Inside he found pictures, copies of the same ones that had been delivered to him on Sunday. "Chase took these pictures?" he thought about that possibility out loud. "Why?"

"Maybe to shift the blame to Harrington," Chin suggested. "We know the pictures were taken after Dugan's death. If he was in love with Dugan, Billy's ex-girlfriend, then maybe he figured he could make Dugan's death look like it was Billy's fault. By sending you the pictures he gets you upset enough to go after Billy."

Steve continued to ponder it all. "Dugan must have been the one at Chase's place searching for the drawings, evidence of what he'd done. Chase showed up, surprised her, drugged her, took her to the boat he was about to buy. He tossed her overboard. Then went home and tried to think of a way to cover up what he'd done."

"But he loved her," Chin added. "They must've gotten those dove markings at the same time," he guessed. "Some sort of romantic gesture."

"He did admit to loving her on the recording," Danny recalled. "So maybe he felt guilty for killing her, and guilty for trying to set up Billy to take the fall," he kept the ball rolling. "He went back out to the general area where he dumped Dugan and decided to end his life."

"That really is it then," Chin thought it seemed clear enough.

Their team leader still wasn't as convinced as them. "I don't know," Steve kept staring at the pictures in his hands and at the dove brand on Chase's back. "Something about this Romeo and Juliette ending just doesn't feel right to me."

"Let me guess… your gut?" Danny asked.

"My gut," Steve nodded.

* * *

**To be continued…**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Hawaii Five-0_.

**Thank you all for reading... I swear there will be more Steve/Catherine scenes in future parts. :)**

* * *

**You Owe Me  
****Part 5**

By  
N. J. Borba

* * *

Steve stretched both arms above his head as he yawned.

His eyes opened and squinted in the gently lit room. It took him a moment to realize where he was. He didn't stay at her place very often but the satiny pale-blue sheets that smelled like her jasmine perfume were a dead giveaway that he hadn't slept at home, or alone. Steve smiled, recalling their intimate evening. He turned to his left, expecting to find her lying next to him. Instead he was greeted by a face full of blonde fur. His nose scrunched. "Ugh, Trooper," Steve groaned as the dog licked his face.

"Not the morning kiss you were expecting?" Catherine stood in the doorway of her bedroom, arms crossed, chuckling softly at the sight before her.

He scrambled out of bed, finding it difficult to fault the animal for wanting to play. Steve still couldn't imagine how anyone had willingly locked up the amiable creature in a kennel for months. "Not exactly, no," he strutted across the room and let his hands rest against either side of her waist. "Looks like you've been awake for a while, already fully dressed," he wore a small pout. "Why didn't you wake me?" his lips blocked her ability to answer for a moment as he kissed her.

"You looked so cute sleeping. I didn't want to disturb you," she grinned, clasping her hands behind his neck, content to remain in his arms for a while. Her eyes dipped a little, admiring the sinuous curve of his bare chest, and the glorious junction where his navy blue boxer-briefs met hip bone. "I got up early and started packing."

"I approve of the part where you started packing, not so much the bit about you leaving me alone in bed," Steve found himself smiling again, thinking about her moving in to his place and permanently waking up beside her. He leaned forward and gently kissed the small cut on her forehead. "That doesn't look so bad today," he noticed. His lips couldn't seem to stay away from her for very long, caressing their way down the left side of her face, then further south to her neck and along her collar bone. "What more do we need to do?" he whispered.

She closed her eyes, almost ashamed that he could still make her weak in the knees. "You haven't done nearly enough yet," Catherine replied in a sultry tone.

"No, I was…" Steve pulled back to look her in the eye. "Actually, I was talking about the packing," he admitted.

Her face flushed a little as she took him by the hand and led him out to the living room. "There's nothing more to do, this is it," Catherine waved a hand at the items in the middle of the room. "I'm done packing," she declared. "Everything I own is right here, aside from the sheets still on the bed."

"This is it?" he was surprised. "Five boxes and three suitcases?"

Catherine shrugged. "All the furniture came as part of the rental," she explained. "The cases are full of clothes, one box for shoes and another has my toiletries. I took all the kitchen stuff to a thrift shop yesterday because I figured we didn't need double. Third box has a bunch of memorabilia stuff. Fourth holds my record collection and fifth is just miscellaneous. Oh, and we have to take that," she pointed to something over his shoulder.

He turned his head, glanced across the room and grinned when he spotted the old turntable. "Uncle Henry's record player, of course," Steve acknowledged.

"I told you the story about my ninth birthday, right?" Catherine asked. "How my uncle Henry showed up as a surprise. He bought that record player from a vendor in London on his way home after finishing up a tour in Iran. Uncle Henry was so tired from his long flight, but he played record after record for me and we danced until we both literally dropped."

"I do remember that story," Steve said as he admired the sentimental smile she was wearing. "And you travel light," he observed. "I like it."

"I've been in the Navy for eighteen years, I didn't keep much from one place to another," Catherine pointed out. "Just the important stuff."

"I can transfer it all with one load in my truck this morning," Steve offered. "And that'll be it?"

"Aside from stripping down the bed, yep," she agreed. "I'll help you load it all and then drop the keys off with my landlord before I head to work." Catherine looked down at his attire again, or lack thereof, and smiled. "But first I think you need to get dressed."

"Are you sure?" he raised his brows. "We could always give the neighbors a nice show."

She laughed. "Moving boxes in your boxer-briefs…" Catherine liked the sound of it, "Could be fun, except most of my neighbors here are retired and in their sixties."

Steve kissed her again then dutifully went to get dressed. They made short work of loading the few items in to his truck. Then they sat on her front porch, basking in the morning sun, eating the last of the muffins and watching Trooper explore as much of the front yard as she could from her leash that was wrapped around Catherine's left wrist. Steve sat with his shoulder pressed against Catherine's, pleased by the thought of them having breakfast together every morning in the future. Or at least the potential for it.

He glanced over, noticing how she was picking at her muffin and not really eating. "What's up?" Steve asked. "Feeling nostalgic about leaving this place?"

"Not really, no," she turned to him, sunlight causing red highlights to stand out in her hair. "It's just another place, never really home." Catherine's thoughts returned to her conversation with Billy the day before and what Steve had told her about the case last night. "Actually, I was just thinking it would be nice if you went to see Billy this morning, if you were the one to tell him about Chase's death," she carefully suggested. "They were best friends and it would be kind of awful for him to see it on the news."

Steve nodded hesitantly. "I guess I could," it wasn't exactly what he figured was on her mind.

A glance at her watch caused Catherine to jump up. "I need to go." She waited for him to stand and kissed him quickly, but tenderly. "Are you sure you're okay unloading all this stuff and getting Trooper settled at your place?" Catherine crouched down and tousled the dog's shiny coat. "She's only had a day here with me, now another new place. You think she'll be okay there on her own today?" she asked.

"She'll be fine," Steve assuaged her concern. "Gotta let them grow up at some point," he grinned.

"Be good," Catherine said as she stood and transferred Trooper's leash to Steve.

"Are you talking to me or the dog?" Steve asked as he caught her about the waist for one more kiss.

A laugh escaped as she kissed him then edged toward her car. "Both of you," she answered.

000

Steve took the dog with him on the elevator to the sixth floor office.

He hadn't wanted to leave the animal in the car since the morning sun was already blazing. And there was no parking garage in the area. Steve knocked lightly on the office door, which he noticed now had a new frosted glass insert installed, and Harrington's name printed in blocky white letters. "Fancy," he looked down at the dog and shrugged. There was no answer but the door was slightly open so Steve entered.

The place was much cleaner than the last time Steve had seen it, and much improved by the new construction. He found Billy in a back room, leaning against a wall, staring at paint samples shoved in to the grove between wall and window trim. "Beige is good," Steve announced his presence. "Nice and neutral," he offered.

When Billy turned around to face his visitor, Trooper lunged at the man and growled.

Although the dog's reaction caused Steve to feel rather proud, he tightened his hold on her leash. "Trooper, easy girl," he soothed.

"Commander," Harrington stood up straighter. "Why do I get the feeling Catherine sent you here?" he asked, recalling his conversation with the woman the night before.

"She suggested I pay you a visit," Steve easily admitted. "But maybe not for the reason you're thinking."

As delicately as he could, Steve relayed the news of Martin Chase's death to his fellow SEAL. He watched the man sag heavily against the wall, struggling not to cry. It made Steve uncomfortable, but also somewhat humbled. Anyone who would cry over a lost friend couldn't be all bad. In an attempt to settle the uneasiness, Steve further explained how they'd found Chase on the boat and even told Billy, word for word, what the recording had said. Everything from Chase's declaration of love for Dugan, to how he'd altered the drawings.

"That recording can't be real," Billy declared with a stiff tone.

The sudden shift in mood had Steve a little on edge, and it didn't help that Trooper was still acting very restless toward Harrington. The animal softly growled at him. "You don't believe it happened that way?" Steve asked. "Or maybe you were jealous of your best friend having an affair with Dugan?" he found himself mistrusting the man again.

"I know for a fact it didn't happen that way, but not because I was involved," Billy sighed. "I couldn't be jealous of Marty and Cathy because I know she wasn't Marty's type."

"Everyone strays from the norm now and then. Although you certainly seem to like a specific type," Steve realized there was more accusation in his tone than he'd meant.

Billy scoffed, "I know Cathy wasn't Marty's type because she was a woman. He may have loved her as a friend, but nothing more than that."

Steve was momentarily taken aback by those words, turning them over in his head. "Oh," the truth finally dawned on him. "Martin Chase was gay?" Steve watched Billy nod without hesitation, but he still had to ask, "You're sure about that?"

"Very," Harrington replied. "But whoever set up Marty clearly didn't know that because they wouldn't have used this lame cover of him and Dugan being romantically linked."

"So you think Martin was coerced in to saying all those things on the recorder? That he was set up and murdered?" Steve had been feeling funny about the case, but he hadn't really thought about a set up. It started to make some sense, though, "Why didn't you tell me the truth about Chase last time we talked?"

"Because it really wasn't my place to tell you, especially while Marty was still…" Billy was a bit exasperated. "Marty is my friend…" he paused. "_Was_ my friend," he corrected. "Best one I've ever had. No one knew, not even his dad. Marty did his best to pretend it wasn't true. He worried it would have an impact on his career, on everything in his life. When I joined the Navy he'd considered it as well, but he was too concerned about the repercussions if anyone ever found out."

There was no way for Steve to argue that point. He'd thrived on military life but he knew it could be a hostile place for some. "So he never had any relationships?"

"Not that I know of," Harrington rubbed his hands together. "There was someone he liked in college but the guy wasn't interested, and Marty came real close to killing himself senior year because of the situation. But I know he'd gotten past all that, therapy. He was happy here, happy doing what he loved. I don't believe he would kill himself."

Steve looked down at the dog, trying to put the pieces together. "I'm starting to think you might be right," he finally agreed. With his gaze leveled on Harrington again, Steve sucked up his courage. "I'm trying to be okay with you and Catherine working together, but it's a little uncomfortable," Steve admitted.

"Commander, I've never had anything but respect for you," Billy looked his old friend in the eye, having said similar things before to the man. "And I imagine I might feel exactly the same way if the situation were reversed. But you might be interested to know I've been seeing someone for a few weeks," he revealed.

There was a long moment of reluctance on Steve's part, but he finally extended his right hand. "I'm sorry about the loss of your friend."

Harrington reached out and shook hands. "Thank you."

Both of them knew it was still only a tentative truce.

000

"_Where are you_? _I've been trying to reach you for a half hour_."

Steve glanced in his rearview mirror. Trooper was sitting obediently, tongue out and panting happily as a gentle breeze blew from an open side window. Further back, a tarp was pulled tight over Catherine's stuff. "I've had a few things to take care of this morning, Danny," he directed his words toward the cell phone clamped on his dash. "I'll be at the office in an hour, or maybe slightly longer," Steve said. "I need to drop some stuff off at home."

"_Change of plans, pick me up at my place_."

"Why?" Steve asked.

"_I had to take Grace to school, and then I had to drop off the Camaro to have an oil change and twenty-point engine inspection. I know it probably seems too soon to you for that, but the way you drive my car I figured it was necessary. Anyhow, I walked home because it's only a few blocks. So I'm a little behind this morning as well, but Chin contacted me and he has a lead on the one tattoo place on this island that also does some creative branding, as they put it. That means you have to drive us_."

With a furrowed brow, Steve questioned the plan. "Why was Chin looking in to the branding matter?"

"_Because last night on the boat your gut said this case wasn't over. Chin and I both know what that means… leave no stone unturned._"

A smile crept over Steve's face. He admired the way his team knew him so well. "And Harrington just gave me some information that could be a game changer. Okay, Danny. I can be at your place in about ten," he disconnected the call and made a quick U-turn.

When Danny climbed in to the truck a few minutes later, Steve noticed the bag his partner was carrying; a green and gold plastic sack. "What is that?"

"This? Nothing," Danny buckled in and turned around to give Trooper an affectionate pat on the head.

Steve grinned as he pulled out of the driveway. He couldn't help admire the way Danny treated the dog with respect. Trooper seemed perfectly calm with him, as opposed to how she'd reacted to Harrington earlier. "What are you doing, bringing your lunch to work now?" Steve wouldn't let the plastic bag issue go.

"No, it's just…" Danny gave up and reached inside the bag. "Here you go, Mr. Nosey. It's a little house warming present I got for you."

"I'm staying in the same house," Steve pointed out the obvious fact.

Danny's eyes rolled as they pulled on to the main road. "Yes, I understand that. But you're moving in with Catherine, so… just accept the gift," he held the item out to his friend.

"In case you hadn't realized, Danny, I'm trying to drive right now. What is that?" Steve turned his head for a second and glanced at the object in Danny's hand. He read the wording on the cover. "_Communicating with Your Significant Other_," Steve's eyes narrowed. "What the heck is that, Danny?"

"It's a book," his partner replied.

"I can see it's a book, Sherlock," McGarrett groaned. "I do know what a book is, Danny. I meant, why are you giving me this?"

"You're a great guy, Steve. You know that. I know that," Danny flipped through the book as he spoke. "But your communication skills kind of suck," he bravely added. "You see, the thing is that most normal people have a series of events in a relationship. They start with a declaration of love and then move on to living together and or a marriage proposal. You, my friend, have not even been able to get the L word out. And you pretty quickly freaked out about the marriage thing. So, maybe the book can help."

"I did not freak about the marriage thing. And… are you actually being serious with this right now?" Steve was a little offended.

"Trust me. This book is great. I wish I'd had this sucker when Rachael and I started dating," Danny nodded. "Listen to this, there's one whole chapter on questions you should ask your significant other to determine if you're compatible. Question number one, what is your partner's favorite color?" he read. "That seems easy enough, right? No, wait, let me guess… yours is gunmetal," Danny chuckled at his own joke.

"Blue," Steve corrected. "My favorite color is blue and so is Catherine's. What the heck does color have to do with a relationship anyhow?"

"Okay, smarty," Danny persisted. "How about this one, would you rather live together before marriage or no?"

Steve grumbled, "Seriously?" He realized Danny wasn't going to give up, though. "Obviously that's a yes for me and Catherine."

"Right," Danny scanned the questions. "Does your partner have any brothers or sisters?"

"No, Catherine is an only child," Steve replied, "Unless you count her step-father's three sons, which I don't think she does. Her mother only married the guy ten years ago so they were all adults already and Catherine tends to stay away from family gatherings with them. She's always been a daddy's little girl. Kind of like Grace is your monkey and probably always will be, even as you walk her down the aisle on her wedding day."

Danny smiled at the mention of his daughter. But he was not distracted enough by the wedding comment, "What is your partner's middle name?"

"Catherine June Rollins," Steve answered, figuring it was better to just humor him.

"June?" Danny questioned, "As in, June Cleaver?"

"As in the month she was born," Steve supplied. "And she kind of hates that name so please don't tell her I told you. Catherine was named after her paternal grandmother, has some family history for her. June being the month she was born, makes her think her parents didn't give it very much thought."

"It's just a middle name," Danny said. "At least she wasn't born in September or October. That would probably be a little strange. Cathy Octy," he joked.

"This whole conversation is strange," Steve declared. "Catherine and I talk. I know stuff about her. I just aced your questions, so are we done?"

"Those were just the easy ones," Danny interrupted. "You want some harder ones? Does your partner like Opera? What is your partner's favorite comfort food?"

Steve shook his head. "I'd rather you shut up, but I can tell the likelihood of that happening any time soon isn't in my favor."

"I can just read to myself for a while if you prefer," Danny shrugged. "You want me to read to myself? If that's what you want. Fine with me," he actually stopped talking for a few minutes and read more questions, alternately laughing and scoffing at some of them. When he finally looked up at the road again, Danny frowned. "Steve?" he called to his friend. "Yoo-hoo? Are you driving here or what? I'm pretty sure that old lady with the walking cane just passed us," Danny pointed out the window.

"Hmm, what? Sorry, were you talking to me?" Steve asked.

"Sorry?" Danny thought maybe his partner had been trying to make a joke about ignoring him, but the sorry threw him off. "You never apologize. What's up?"

"Nothing," a head shake followed Steve's declaration, but was unconvincing. "This Billy thing, I guess."

That name sparked Danny's interest. "Is it nothing, or is it Billy?"

"If it were up to me," Steve gripped the wheel a little tighter. "Billy Harrington would be nothing but a blip on my radar screen."

"Okay, enough with the Navy analogies," Danny closed the book and dropped it back into the bag at his feet. "If you knew you were going to be this neurotic about it all, I don't understand why you let Catherine take the job in the first place," he ventured. "She hasn't even started working with him and you're freaking out. Billy being a murder suspect for a short time notwithstanding, I think you made a huge mistake."

"Not _let_, Danny. I don't let her do anything, she doesn't need my permission," Steve clarified. "That should be one of your book questions, by the way… would you allow your partner to work with someone they used to… never mind," he cleared his head of those thoughts. "Can I just say that you have serious mood swings," Steve accused. "First you said she shouldn't take the job then you said you were wrong and maybe Billy wasn't so bad. Now you're back to her not taking the job," he sighed. "You know what, the most important thing is that Catherine is an adult and she can make her own decisions."

Danny nodded. "Yes, she can."

Steve nodded as well. "I just thought I could handle this, thought I could be the cool boyfriend and all that. But all I really want to do is…"

"Punch him?" Danny supplied.

"Do not tell Catherine I said that," Steve replied in a warning tone.

With his hands held up, Danny shrugged. "Technically, you didn't. I did."

"And for the record, I'm driving so slowly because I have all of Catherine's stuff in the back of my truck," Steve tried to get away from the Billy topic. "Trooper, too," he noted, still impressed by how well behaved the dog was being in the backseat.

"So how is life with a dog going for you?" Danny asked conversationally.

"Good, fine," Steve knew everyone was still surprised he liked the dog. "It's only been a few days but I think the two of us are getting along well enough," he shrugged. "Except she doesn't really listen to me or follow my orders. But that's pretty much how things go with most of the females in my life - mom, Mary, and even Catherine." Steve eyed Danny. "Is there a dog and dog owner version of that book?"

They both laughed until Danny pointed out the sign for their stop shortly after entering Chinatown. Loopy gold lettering spelled out the words: _Beyond the Ink_. A black and red graffiti style background of Chinese characters depicting the same words completed the sign. "I guess branding is the _beyond_ part," Steve remarked.

"_Creative_ branding," Danny noted.

Not seeing any parking spots on the street, Steve pulled the truck to a stop in the alley behind the shop. A shady spot for Trooper.

"Hey, I just had an idea," Danny said as the jingling of bells signaled their entry in to the establishment. "Maybe this is the answer to your ring dilemma."

"What ring dilemma?" Steve asked, though the instant bombardment of loud music inside the shop caused some difficulty in being heard.

"You know, how you can't seem to find a ring for Catherine that you like, or, how did you put it… calls out her name," Danny reminded him, raising his voice above the insipidly loud Goth music overhead. "So maybe you and Catherine could get his and hers matching ring tattoos instead."

"Are you kidding me?" Steve sighed.

"People do it," Danny insisted. "But you could just get a fake one for the proposal, a temporary decal in case she turns you down."

"Danny, I am not asking Catherine to marry me with a tattoo decal," Steve said as they approached the main counter. "You the owner?" he asked a woman who appeared to be late thirties. She had jet-black hair with a bright blue streak on the left side, and a distinctive tattoo of a cobra that wrapped around her right forearm.

She nodded and gave her name, "Tara Lee. You here for an addition?" the woman noticed the tattoos peeking out from either side of his short sleeve t-shirt. "I can give you and your friend a multiple discount if you each get some work done," she offered.

Danny politely shook his head. "I'll pass on that offer, thanks. But do you do wedding ring tattoos?"

Steve sighed at his partner. He pulled out his cell phone and showed her pictures of the dove brand on both of their victims, "Is this your work, Tara?"

"Yep," the woman nodded. "A simple design, but I haven't had much practice with creative branding so it's always a nice switch. Cute couple came in last Thursday for that work."

"Did either of them happen to mention the significance of the design?" Danny asked.

"Nah, sorry," Tara's head shook.

"You still have the brand you used?" Steve wondered.

The woman's brows bunched. "Oh, that's not… I don't use an old-school branding iron like you're thinking. That stuff is for cattle. I freehanded those doves using an electric soldering iron to burn on the design. Some people think it's a crude method, but others seem to like it more than tattooing. Cheaper, too, because it's faster. The precision is not the same as what you get with a tattoo needle, though. And no color options."

"Except burned flesh," Danny remarked.

"The two people you branded with this symbol are dead now," Steve let her know. "Have you used this soldering tool of yours since Thursday?" Steve asked.

"Nope, you need it as evidence or something?" she offered. "Look, man, I swear all my equipment is clean and sterile. I didn't kill anybody."

Steve nodded. "I trust you. I'm mostly just curious to see what it looks like," he smiled.

"Okay, sure. Hang on," Tara pointed over her shoulder. "It'll be somewhere in the equipment room. My assistant isn't here today and I'm not the best when it comes to organization," the woman said before she disappeared in to the back room.

Danny and Steve looked around the shop as they waited. The place was small, but efficient, and almost cozy if not for the music blaring. There was one tattooing chair positioned in the middle of the space and displays of artwork on the walls. "I don't see any security cameras," Steve pointed out, much to his disappointment. After five minutes had passed, Steve's gut was feeling more than a little uncomfortable. "Do you suppose she's ever coming back?" he glanced toward the equipment room.

The detective sighed, knowingly. "Why do they always run?" Danny groaned.

Both men pulled their weapons and immediately rushed to the back room. The area was filled with shelves and boxes of supplies, rubber gloves, ink in about a thousand different colors and a surplus of needles. But no proprietor and no soldering iron. Danny went to the back door and opened it, sticking his head out in to the alley to search for the woman who'd seemed so helpful a few minutes ago. "Uh, Steve…" he stepped back inside. "We've got a problem."

"Yeah, she knew something and didn't tell us," Steve looked to his partner. "And now she's gone."

"Not just gone, buddy," Danny held the door open a little wider. "She took your truck."

"No," Steve holstered his weapon and dashed outside. He looked left and right but only saw stone walls and asphalt staring back at him. "Danny, all of Catherine's stuff and…"

"Trooper," Danny realized with a sick feeling, already kind of fond of the dog himself.

Steve took off like a shot, sprinting down the alley toward the busy street. He was vaguely aware of Danny's footsteps behind him as he scanned the main street. There was no sign of the truck but he spotted a woman about to get in to her red Kia Rio sedan. He ran toward her, flashing his badge. "Ma'am, I need your car, official 5-0 business," he said, not waiting for an answer as he did his best to gently push her aside.

Danny was there to jump in the passenger seat just a second before Steve hit the gas.

"Call Chin," Steve instructed. "Have him track the GPS in my truck."

"Gotta love a dumb criminal," Danny muttered as he made the call without hesitation.

As they waited for Chin to answer, Steve circled the block, hoping to accidentally come across the woman and his truck. "Can't this thing go any faster?" he glanced at the speed gage dial and groaned, pushing his foot down harder against the gas pedal.

Trying to stay focused and explain the situation to Chin, Danny did his best not to laugh at the fact his friend had chosen a ridiculous vehicle for their pursuit. "Yep, got it Chin," he waved his arm at Steve. "Hang a right at the next light and take the on ramp," Danny instructed. "She's on the H1 headed east."

When Danny finally put Chin on speaker, the man back at HQ continued to guide them. "_She's about five minutes ahead of you. Now on the Kalanianaole highway…"_

"Come on you gutless piece of plastic," Steve urged the economy car.

"_Hang on a second, looks like she's just turned off at Wailupe Beach Park_," Chin reported.

"That doesn't make any sense," Steve said. "Wailupe is a tiny green space with only a dead-end parking lot and nothing but water beyond that…" he trailed off.

Danny looked to his partner. "She wouldn't. Would she?"

Steve's foot stomped on the gas again, trying not to worry about the dog. He turned off at the park's entrance three minutes later and instantly spotted his truck. The blue Chevy had gone up over the curb at the end of the parking lot and was inches away from the water, but stopped. As Steve and Danny approached with caution, guns drawn, Steve couldn't detect any outward signs of damage to his truck. "Tara!" he shouted, seeing she was still in the front seat. "Get out of the truck, now! Hands where we can see them!"

"Can't do that!" the woman shouted back.

Taking careful steps toward his truck, Steve could hear something over the gentle crash of waves. It was Trooper growling, even more ferociously than when he'd visited Harrington earlier in the day. "Don't move then," Steve warned as he made his way to the driver's side.

"Not a problem," Tara replied. "This stupid mutt of yours caused me to go off road and is trying to bite my arm in half," the woman complained. "Call her off."

Danny and Steve finally caught sight of Tara. They both smiled at the scene. Trooper had her front paws on the woman's chest, holding Tara captive.

"She just nipped you, not even any blood," Steve reported as he inspected her arm.

"Can we use Trooper as a police dog?" Danny chuckled as he took her leash and gently coaxed the animal away from Tara. "Good girl," he cooed at the dog, leading her out of the truck.

Trooper's growls immediately ceased in favor of affectionately nuzzling against Danny's thigh.

With an appreciative glance in the dog's direction, Steve pulled Tara from the truck. He cuffed her and turned her to face him for questioning. "What do you know about the deaths of Cathleen Dugan and Martin Chase?" he asked.

"Nothing, never heard of them," the woman replied. "All I know is that some guy came in to my shop Thursday night, stuck a gun in my face and said he needed the soldering iron I used for branding. I got it for him and then he said that if anyone showed up I should tell them I did the branding work myself for some dove designs. And that if I told anyone the truth about him being there he'd burn my shop to the ground. So I didn't say shit, until just now."

"Why'd you run?" Danny asked.

"I've got nothing but that shop to keep me and my kids afloat. To be honest, it's not that great of a money maker. I was branching out with the services, piercings, branding, whatever I could to make some extra cash," Tara explained. "Couldn't let it burn, though, got no insurance. I had to make it look like I wasn't cooperating with you in case he was watching me."

"Who was the guy?" Steve asked. "Describe him to me."

"About your height and build," Tara looked Steve up and down. "But his face was covered by a dark mask, so…" she shrugged.

"You still saw his eyes, right?" Steve persisted, hoping for some small clue.

"Pretty sure they were green, maybe hazel," Tara answered. "I can't go to jail. And if I lose my shop, my kids go to foster care. I'm all they've got."

Steve unlocked her cuffs. "Get in," he instructed her, pointing to his truck. "I'll take you home and I'll have HPD watch your shop until we catch this guy. That's a promise," he told the woman with a reassuring nod. Steve took Trooper's leash from Danny and situated the dog back in his truck, sure that the animal was keeping an eye on Tara. He turned to Danny and tossed him the keys to the Rio. "You can drive that pile of crap back to Chinatown for me," Steve grinned.

"Oh, now you let me drive," Danny lamented.

000

"Well, we know Harrington has brown eyes," Danny pointed out as they walked down the hall. "Guess that rules him out again. But his friend Chase had hazel eyes."

"About the same height and weight as me, too," Steve replied. After dropping Tara off in Chinatown, Steve and Danny had worked together to unload Catherine's stuff. They'd just gotten Trooper settled in with bowls of food and water when Max had contacted them. "If what Billy told me is true, then it doesn't make sense that Chase was in love with Dugan. But maybe it was more about friendship love than romantic love?" Steve suggested.

"Love of any sort…" Danny sighed. "Makes people do dumb stuff."

"Even brand themselves?" Steve asked.

Danny shrugged. "Placement of Chase's brand would be tricky to do on his own, but he's way better at stick figures than me."

"And the plot thickens," Max said ominously as they walked in to his lab.

Steve frowned. "What are you going on about, Max? Did you find anything out about Chase?" he asked as he and Danny stood over the dead body on Max's table.

Max smiled wanly. "Sorry, Commander. I've just always wanted to say that," the ME revealed. "And it seemed like the perfect line considering what I discovered about your victim." He flicked on the light to his x-ray monitor and gestured at the picture that appeared. "This is Martin Chase's neck. Do you notice anything odd about it?"

Danny squinted, "Some sort of object there that's darker than everything else," he noticed.

"Very good, Detective Williams," Max nodded. "That is a foreign object I found in your victim's throat."

"So he choked to death?" Danny wondered.

"No, he was killed instantly by the gunshot to his head," Max reported. "The object in his throat never made it down far enough to be swallowed."

"I'm assuming you already know what the object is, Max?" Steve waited, not-so-patiently.

With a perfunctory nod, Max moved across the room and grabbed a small stainless steel bowl. He walked it over to the table so they could see the tiny black and gold item nestled within the bowl. "This is a Micro SD card," he revealed. "Small enough to be swallowed without much trouble. But since the card was only at the back of Chase's throat I'm guessing he didn't want to actually swallow it. I'm thinking he was simply holding it there for safe keeping."

"Safe keeping?" Danny questioned.

As he stared down at the item, Steve found himself in agreement with Max's assessment. "He was hiding it from someone else on that boat, maybe his murderer." Steve turned to Danny. "This card has got to be what they were looking for at his place."

"That thing?" Danny scoffed. "That's not nearly big enough to warrant the King Kong size holes we found at his place."

"Whoever it was probably thought they were looking for the hard copy architectural drawings that had been altered by Chase," Steve suggested. "Large drawings, large holes," he thought. "But this is the digital age," Steve noted. "Max, is that card in decent enough shape for us to extract data from it?"

Max grinned. "I'm already ahead of you, commander. I downloaded the data and sent it to Charlie for analysis."

"Good, because I was not about to go near that card," Danny shuddered. "I make it a point to never touch things that people swallow, or almost swallow, or..."

"How about the branding mark on Chase's lower back," Steve continued to question the medical examiner, tuning Danny out. "Can you estimate when it was applied, like you did with Dugan? And can you tell if Chase's gunshot was self-inflicted or not?"

"Firstly," Max replied. "I determined that Chase had been dead for nearly twenty-four hours when I first received the body for examination," he relayed. "Based on the fact that the brand was still very red and blistered, I'd say it occurred sometime within only a few hours before his death. I highly doubt it was done at the same time as the mark on Dugan."

"And the other thing?" Steve asked.

With a sigh, Max returned his attention to the body on his table. "That part is a little trickier," he revealed. "Your victim appears to be left handed, which is consistent with the bullet's trajectory of left to right. However, the bullet also traveled at a slight upward angle. That could simply mean that our victim was hesitant when he took the shot and his arm was somewhat lowered. It could also mean…"

"He was shot by someone shorter than him," Steve concluded.

"Correct," Max affirmed.

Steve flashed an appreciative smile at their ME even though he'd hoped for more exact evidence. "Thank you, Max."

Danny and Steve left the ME and took the elevator down one floor to find Charlie in his lab. "Commander, Detective," Fong greeted them. "I've been expecting you. I'm guessing you already know what Max found?" He didn't wait for an answer as he motioned them toward a large computer monitor. "The only thing on the SD card were some short AVI clips. They look like surveillance type stuff, black and white footage."

Charlie's screen flickered to life, and Steve immediately recognized the camera's interior. "Dugan's office," he spotted one of the porcelain figures on her desk.

The room was fairly dark as a figure opened the door and entered the office. The figure was dressed in dark clothing. "Oh, look, they're wearing a mask and gloves, how great for them," Danny pointed out. "I actually kind of prefer when criminals are dumb."

As they continued to watch they saw the figure sit in front of Dugan's laptop, power it up and begin to type. "Charlie, is there a better angle to see the screen?" Steve asked.

"Only this side view," Fong replied. "But I zoomed in on the keyboard earlier and was able to determine what the person typed in, at least some of it. The first sequence is the password I decrypted in order to access Dugan's email files."

"So this person was able to get in to their email account," Danny realized, "Which means they could've been the one to send those blackmail emails to Chase."

"Making him think it was Dugan," Steve surmised.

"The same figure appears in the other clip," Charlie said as he switched to a new file.

Steve didn't recognize the second office, but he noticed a picture on the wall of a trolley like the famous ones often seen in San Francisco. "Chase's office," he guessed. The dark figure did the same thing in Chase's office as it had done in Dugan's, typing away at his computer. "Someone was using both their computers. Who the heck is this guy?"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure it's a woman," Fong replied. He looked over to see the expectancy on their faces. "Height is about five foot six inches. And given the average weight of a human head, coupled with some body circumference software I used… the figure weighs about a hundred and fifteen pounds," he revealed. "Here," he displayed a third image for them, this one a still picture. "This is what Chin pulled off the Ala Wai Marina security cam. Our figure here is roughly the same height and weight," Fong concluded.

"So we're looking for a woman," Danny realized.

"Yes and no," Steve countered. "Nathan Joyce said he couldn't be sure if the voice he heard over the phone was male, but Tara seemed positive a guy threatened her. Now we have evidence that a woman was very likely responsible for these emails," Steve looked to Danny, seeing that his partner had just caught on.

"We've got two suspects working together," Danny was the one to voice the conclusion, "Partners."

Steve nodded. "Do you think they know each other's favorite color?"

* * *

**To be continued…**


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Hawaii Five-0_.

* * *

**You Owe Me  
****Part 6**

By  
N. J. Borba

* * *

"Trooper is okay, though, isn't she?" Catherine asked before he could even end the crazy account of his afternoon.

They'd driven separately to the ceremony but now walked together, their dress blues perfectly pressed for the occasion. A mild breeze blew across the land and a small concentration of rain clouds hung overhead. Fine mist drifted to the ground, soaking in to the pristinely cut grass. Catherine leaned against him as they moved toward the gathering, carefully watching each step she took. Steve had one arm slung about her shoulders and gave her a tender squeeze as they strolled.

"Trooper is fine," he assured her. "In fact, Danny wants to recruit her for police work," Steve joked. "You would've been proud of her, the way she protected your stuff. And you should be very happy to know that all of your things made it safely to..." he stopped short of saying his place. "Your clothes and everything else are all at home with Trooper. I even made sure the record player didn't have any scratches, and no broken vinyl."

Catherine halted their forward movement, turned in his arms and looked up at him. "Steve, all of that stuff in your truck…" her breath hitched a little as she gazed in to the depths of his stormy blue eyes. "I hope you know that none of those things are worth more to me than you," Catherine declared.

"And Trooper," Steve quickly replied. "She was in more danger than I was."

"Yeah, of course. Trooper, too," she nodded, sensing that her sentiments had been a little more than he could handle at the moment. The swiftness with which they'd flowed from her lips had startled her as well. "Did she really stop your suspect for you?" Catherine asked as they resumed their walk.

"She did. It was great," he nodded. "Trooper has a serious defensive side to her."

With a soft smile, Catherine took his hand. "She was protecting you and Danny. As much as she's become my dog the last few days, she's also become yours."

Steve was a little surprised by the realization, but he liked the thought of the animal being theirs. He decided not to mention to her how the dog had growled at Harrington earlier, but Billy was certainly on his mind at the moment. "I suppose you think you're pretty subtle don't you," his words were more a statement than a question, "The way you casually suggested I should talk to Harrington this morning. You knew what secret he was keeping about Chase didn't you?"

"He confided in me yesterday," Catherine readily confirmed. "I trust him, Steve. Not because we had a relationship, and not even because we served together. But because I consider him to be a friend," she spoke with certainty. "You know I've never made friends easily. With all the moving around I did as a kid I found it safer to close myself off to people, not get attached. That way I wouldn't miss them when we left."

He squeezed her hand a little tighter upon hearing that explanation.

"And you should know that you have to do a lot to earn my respect," she concluded.

"I do know that," Steve replied, counting himself lucky to be among the few who had earned a place within her tight comfort sphere.

She leaned against his shoulder a bit heavier. "You didn't have to be here for this, but thank you," Catherine said as they neared the gathering.

Steve looked across the grassy land to the stone wall they were approaching. "Actually, I did," he replied. "Dugan's death is my case, a still unsolved one," Steve felt bad for that second fact. As he looked over at Catherine he flashed a sympathetic smile her way. "But mostly I wanted to be here for you. I know how difficult these services can be," he said as he noticed Billy Harrington was already there, standing up front. There were no chairs, just a small gathering with everyone standing.

"I hate how I let my friendship with Cathleen slide to the point where this is all we have left," Catherine revealed with regret, her emotions getting the better of her. "I'm not even sure how many military funerals I've been to over the years," she sighed.

They arrived at the memorial wall where Dugan's ashes would soon be interned. It was a tall stone wall, smooth, ivory granite. Dozens of other vaults lined the wall alongside Dugan's open space. All of them engraved with names, times, declarations of love and duty. Since there was no casket, an American flag was displayed on a pole next to the opened vault. And a picture of the woman was propped beside the flag. Catherine did her best to pull on her steely military face as they stood among the small group of people who'd gathered.

"I was only five years old the first time my dad took me to a military funeral," Catherine spoke again. "It was for his best friend, Lieutenant Benjamin Irvine. They'd served in Vietnam together those last few years of the war," she recalled, thankful for the way Steve remained at her side, holding her hand, listening intently. "For some reason the volley salute still always gets to me," she admitted. "Most days I love the Navy and I don't regret a single second of my service. But some days I also hate it for taking away so many good people."

"It never gets easier, does it?" he commiserated, having attended more than his fair share of services as well.

"This might seem strange," Catherine almost hesitated to tell him, "But when I die I'd rather not have all of this pomp," she finally declared. "I get that it has its merits, and I completely respect them. Normally I love tradition," she shrugged. "But after spending so much time under the regimented life of the military I just think that when I die I'd rather be set adrift on the ocean; a burial at sea. Kind of how the islanders do here sometimes," Catherine noted. "I like that."

"Me, too," Steve agreed, turning briefly to kiss the side of her head.

They quieted when the Navy chaplain began the service.

Steve recognized most of those gathered as being MLC employees, people he'd questioned about her life and death. Standing beside Harrington was Keith Myer. Steve recalled the man speaking fondly of Dugan, thinking of her like a daughter. And beside Myer was a young woman who Steve guessed was the man's daughter, the one who'd gone surfing with Cathleen. He thought that Dugan's lack of family seemed to be made up by those she'd worked with, sort of the way his team had all become a close family.

He hated that his head was considering all of those in attendance to be suspects for Dugan's murder.

Catherine felt Steve squeeze her hand a little tighter during the volley salute and she was grateful of the connection. She watched closely as the servicemen folded the flag with military precision and genuine care. Then their former CO walked the flag over to Billy, who accepted the item on Dugan's behalf. Harrington held the flag with both hands, closed his eyes for a beat and then placed it in the vault next to the silver urn of Dugan's ashes. When the chaplain concluded the service, Catherine separated from Steve and went to greet Billy.

Harrington smiled softly to see her. "Commander Teller asked if I'd do that for Cathleen, accepting the flag and all," he revealed. "Since she didn't have any family left."

"Is it wrong that I'm actually glad her mother didn't have to go through all this," Catherine said as she leaned forward and hugged Billy. "I'm so sorry about Cathleen, and Martin," she whispered the words to him before backing out of the brief embrace.

Billy acknowledged Steve with a handshake. "Hard to believe both of them are gone," he sighed, trying to keep it together. "I spoke to Marty's dad earlier, just after you told me about his death this morning," he looked to Steve. "He's going to have Marty cremated," those words were directed more to Catherine. "He asked me to be the one to bring Marty home, so I'm be flying to San Francisco sometime in the next few days. I guess you'll have to spend your first few days of work on your own," Billy told Catherine.

She nodded. "That'll give me a chance to get some painting done," Catherine lent her support. "Get the office in working order."

He gave a weak nod of approval. "I should be going, but I'll see you at your ceremony tomorrow."

"No, Billy," her head shook. "I'll understand if you don't want to be there, if it's all too much."

"I'll be there," Billy reaffirmed. "We all need something to celebrate right about now." He looked to both of them again, "Thank you both for being here."

Catherine watched her friend walk away, her heart heavy with worry for him. It didn't seem right to lose two good friends in as many days. She turned toward the parking lot, looking for Steve's hand. He was there beside her again as they walked, but his touch felt a bit stiff to her. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I didn't say anything, did I?" Steve kept his eyes on the grassy path ahead of them.

"You didn't have to say anything, the look on your face says plenty," Catherine pointed out. "It was just a hug, Steve," she guessed that was the main thing bugging him at the moment. "Ex's can be friends, you know. I mean, there was that whole Dawson, Pacey and Joey saga for example," Catherine tried to lighten the mood.

"Are you seriously comparing our situation to a TV show?" he wasn't upset so much as he was concerned about her, because something still seemed off about Billy.

"You caught that Dawson's Creek reference?" she smiled.

He shrugged. "Mary used to watch it," his tone remained reserved.

"Steve," a frustrated look flashed in her eyes as she addressed him, "I'm just trying to point out how completely ridiculous you're being." She instantly regretted her wording, realizing how harsh it might have come across. Catherine could see him trying to avoid her gaze, but she persisted. "Being jealous of Billy is pointless," suddenly she wasn't so afraid to tell it to him straight. "Because of one very important fact, which is that I'm not in love with him," Catherine declared.

"That doesn't change the fact that Billy wasn't completely truthful with us, Cath," he was quick to remind her.

"When I asked him directly he was honest," she defended. "Obviously it was hard for him to tell us about Martin's secret. And no one wants to believe their friends could do something wrong, especially murder. He's been protecting Martin for a good part of his life. You know something like that runs deep for friends," Catherine pointed out. "Billy and I have remained friends and I don't regret that, Steve. I value that. We had a very brief time together and…"

"I don't need to know details," Steve tried to stop her, dropping her hand from his grip.

"What we had was special in that time and place," Catherine persisted. "But it was never serious, and I ended it," she emphasized that last point. "Maybe because I was still hung up on someone else," Catherine could see he was still uncomfortable with the topic. "You know I had doubts about Billy's job offer, but the more I thought about it the more it seemed like the right fit. We trust each other and we know we can work well together because we have before. We know we'll have each other's backs if there's ever a dangerous situation," she explained. "The only thing I hope is…" Catherine took Steve's hand again, "That you can trust _me_."

"I do trust you, Catherine," Steve immediately assured her. His head dipped, forehead pressing against hers as he looked her in the eye. Steve couldn't help be swayed by her honesty. He admired her for it. "Completely," he affirmed.

That was all she needed to hear as they continued toward their vehicles, hand-in-hand again.

"Might not even matter that Billy told us about Chase being gay," Steve's thoughts were on the case again. It was hard for him to think about much else with two unsolved deaths on his mind. "Chase obviously still cared about Dugan as a friend, loved her even. Maybe that was enough to change those drawings for her and get the money she needed to pay her mother's medical bills. Which would mean he's probably not the male partner we're looking for in all this, could actually just be a victim."

"What are you talking about?" Catherine looked to him with confusion. "Why would Martin Chase need a scheme to secure money? He was rich."

Steve gave a small nod. "Chase obviously made decent money working as an architect. He did have a very nice house and a pricey car, but it's doubtful he could get his hands on as much cash money as Dugan needed without refinancing his home or selling the car. And Chin didn't find anything like that in his financial background."

"But he had the trust fund," she said, as if that knowledge should've been apparent to him.

"What trust fund?" Steve saw something in Catherine's gaze that told him she knew more than he did.

"Chase only worked as a designer because he loved it," she revealed. "Billy told me Martin easily had the money to give Dugan," Catherine could see the surprise on Steve's face and she sighed, "He didn't tell you that part, did he?" she bit her lip apprehensively.

"No, Billy never mentioned anything about Chase having a trust. More lies," Steve was instantly upset. "What is going on with him, Cath?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure," she was suddenly at a loss.

000

"Catherine was right," Chin said as he met Steve and Danny in the lobby.

"About the money?" Steve guessed.

Chin nodded as they all entered the elevator. "Chase made a decent living at MLC, but not nearly enough to warrant the big beach front house or pricey Jaguar. For years he drew an annual income from the trust but it became fully instated when he turned twenty-five. Most of the money is in foreign accounts, though, which is why it didn't show up on my cursory look in to his financials. His father's business was based overseas for many years despite the fact that he ran things from San Francisco."

"So how much is the guy worth?" Danny wondered, pressing the second floor button.

"He's been drawing from the trust for ten years," Chin answered as the elevator doors closed, "And the money he gave Dugan put a small chunk in it. Still, due to some strong investments over the years, the trust has stayed pretty stable at the one point five million dollar tax bracket," Chin finally revealed. "Martin Chase was also a smart guy, even at age thirty-five he had a Last Will and Testament that clearly dictated where the money would go in case of his death."

Steve was almost sure of what was coming, but still asked, "Who's his beneficiary?"

"That would be his good friend, William Harrington," Chin confirmed.

Danny frowned upon hearing that rather intriguing bit of information. "So now Harrington is back on the most wanted list?" he looked to his partners. "Maybe he got some of those green colored contacts to throw us off," Danny sighed, more than a little exasperated by the drawn-out case.

"I'll be the first to point out that something very strange is going on with Billy," Steve replied, still curious why the man had told Catherine about the money and not him. "But my guess is that Billy never even knew about the inheritance," Steve replied. "I don't believe he had anything to do with killing Dugan or Chase. Right now my gut is telling me there's something big right under our noses, which is why we're here," he impatiently tapped his foot, wondering how a single story ride could take so long.

"Your gut has been telling you that for several days now and, no offense, but it hasn't gotten us very far," Danny grumbled. "Maybe you should just take some Pepto-Bismol for that gut issue and we can be done with this," he remarked as the elevator dinged and opened its doors.

Paying little heed to his partner's comment, Steve marched down the hall.

He pushed open the door to MLC's second floor offices and made his way to the receptionist's desk before realizing how little light there was in the space.

"You saving energy or something?" Danny was the one to ask.

The receptionist looked up at them from behind her desk. "I'm the only one here at the moment, so yes."

"Beth, isn't it?" Steve remembered her from their previous visit, and he'd seen her at Dugan's memorial an hour ago.

"Yes, and you're Commander McGarrett from Five-0," she acknowledged, standing up to speak to them. "I'm the only one here right now. Mr. Myer gave us all the day off so we could attend Cathleen's service," Beth explained. "He said we should take the day to be with our families."

"Then why are you here?" Danny eyed the woman suspiciously.

"I spent most of the day with my two-year-old daughter. But on my way home from Cathleen's service I remembered something important. There's a design contest that the entire office has been working on for weeks, a multi-use high-rise in Beijing. The deadline to submit is midnight tonight so I came in to finish the cover letter and email the project files," Beth explained. "Hawaii not having an infinite amount of buildable land, Mr. Myer thinks we need to branch out globally. We used to be one of the biggest architectural firms in the state, but the past two years we've had to lay off five people. It's never fun to watch someone lose their job."

Steve could sympathize, but he had something else on his mind at the moment. He glanced down the dark hallway. "Anyone else here?"

"I don't think so," Beth's head shook as she moved around her desk and flipped a switch. The hall lights came to life. "All overhead lighting was off when I got here."

"How long have you worked here, Beth?" Chin asked.

"Nearly five years," she answered.

"You must know a lot about this place," Chin guessed. "Do you know if there are security cameras in any of the offices?"

"No, none that I know about," Beth replied.

"Mind if we take a look around?" Steve was already moving down the hall, not waiting for an answer. Chin and Danny followed close behind. They inspected Dugan's office first and found a small bit of sticky residue high on the wall where their camera angle view had been focused from.

Within a few minutes they'd tracked down Chase's office and found a similar sticky area on the wall.

"Max mentioned that Chase was left handed," Steve reminded them as he stood in the man's office, eyes searching for something to help them out.

"Right," Danny replied. "I mean, that's correct. Is that significant?"

Steve mulled it over some more. "There are considerably fewer left handed people on the planet than right handed people. So who would know enough to set up Chase's death to look like a suicide, including shooting him in the left side of the head? Someone close," he asked and answered. "Family and friends know those sorts of details about a person."

"And co-workers would," Chin realized. "Especially ones who work in such a design heavy field. Everyone in this office probably knew Chase was left handed."

Danny nodded. "Okay, but we're still looking for a woman, right - the one who was on those videos? So maybe we need to think like a woman," Danny suggested.

"Good luck with that," Steve challenged.

"No, I think Danny might be right," Chin was quick to defend. "We all know that women don't commit murder as often as men. And when they do kill their motive is usually much more emotionally driven, whereas guys are typically motivated by money or revenge."

"So what makes a woman emotional?" Steve questioned.

"What doesn't?" Danny scoffed cynically.

"Relationships," Chin gave a less jaded answer.

A nod came from Steve. "That's right. It almost always leads back to love," he agreed. "So we need an emotionally driven woman who probably didn't like Dugan," Steve added. "Do we all remember Melanie Lawson?" he moved toward the door and stepped out in to the hallway again.

"You mean MLC office winner for bitchiest co-worker award?" Danny asked, "Vaguely."

"Wouldn't you say she's about five-six? Certainly a slight woman," Steve made the correlation between Lawson and their mysterious camera figure. "And she didn't deny having issues about working with Dugan. She was actually very direct about it. She was also the only person from MLC that I noticed wasn't at Dugan's service today."

"I thought we agreed she wasn't a threat," Danny watched his partner as the three of them moved down the hall. "And of course she wouldn't be there if she didn't like the woman."

A regretful sigh escaped, "We did dismiss her. Maybe that was a mistake," Steve couldn't help thinking that mistake may have cost Chase his life. "Lawson telling us about her dislike of Dugan straight off was smart. She didn't seem the type, and we agreed that their positions with the firm didn't compete. But she certainly was quick to assume that Chase and Dugan were intimate. And we also know she worked closely with Chase, because she said anytime she had structural work that needed doing she'd get Chase to deal with Dugan for her."

"That's right," Danny recalled.

"So telling us she didn't like Dugan was her preemptive way to throw us off track," Chin realized. "You're right, smart."

"Maybe she actually had her sights set on Chase," Steve shrugged, looking at the name placards on the doors. "Or maybe she was at least confident she could manipulate him in to helping her get money out of the company," he looked left and right. "Do you see Lawson's office?"

"Here," Chin pointed to the door on their left.

"So do we still think Chase could've been Lawson's partner in all this?" Danny wondered.

"Willingly or unwillingly? I doubt it," Steve's head shook. "If we can trust anything coming out of Billy's mouth these days, Chase is an upstanding guy," he flicked on the light inside Lawson's office and headed straight for her desk when he spotted the laptop there. But his foot caught on something that stopped him from moving around the desk. "Ah, damn…" he glanced down at the body lying on the floor behind her desk. "Well, Lawson sure isn't going to tell us anything."

Danny and Chin crowded around the desk and spotted the blonde woman lying on the floor, face up, eyes open and staring blankly at the ceiling.

"There's considerable bruising on her neck," Chin immediately noticed, "Looks like she was strangled."

"What exactly are you doing down here?" Beth's voice called out to them from outside the office. "I tried to get ahold of Mr. Myer but his cell is going to voicemail so I think you should leave until he can authorize you to… oh, my God!" the woman exclaimed from behind them when she spotted Lawson's body. "Is she… dead?"

Steve motioned for Danny to escort the receptionist out of Lawson's office. They didn't need her all over their crime scene. He and Chin remained in the room, examining the scene and the body. "Every time we peg someone for involvement in Dugan's murder, they end up dead," Steve noticed.

Chin had to wonder about that fact. "But the way we found Chase was more an admission of guilt than this. It's a little trickier to strangle yourself," he noted.

Crouching beside the woman, Steve carefully pressed two fingers against her wrist, needing to be sure she wasn't breathing. He was mindful to keep his prints off the woman's mangled neck. "I think we can be pretty sure she didn't strangle herself, Chin," he confirmed. "Her body is still warm, she hasn't been here long. Call in Max," he instructed. Trying not to disturb the crime scene too much himself, Steve used the very tips of his fingers to lift the woman's red blouse and search her backside. "No dove symbol."

"Because she's our killer," Danny declared as he reappeared in the doorway. "Beth is pretty upset, but I should question her now while things are fresh in her mind. You two got this covered back here?" he checked to be sure.

"Yep, thanks, Danny," Steve agreed, waving the man off. "Chin we need to find out what's on her computer."

"I should get some gloves first, don't you think," the officer noted.

Feeling rather impatient, Steve continued to scan the office for visible clues. "Danny could be right," Steve said as he spotted something on Lawson's desk. "But even if Lawson is our killer, she was still working with someone," he lifted a framed photo off the desk. There were two people in the picture but it seemed cut off. Steve removed the back of the frame and pulled the picture out. "She folded someone out of this picture," he revealed to Chin, staring at the full image. "Huh… what if her partner in crime was actually a business partner?"

"So you're thinking it was Chase?" Chin didn't quite follow.

"Doubt it," Steve held up the photo for his partner to see. "There were three partners at this firm, Chin. And now there's only one."

000

"His new boat was recently renamed, _Haley_. That's his daughter's name," Chin said as he and Steve made their way down the wooden dock. "Slip 25."

Steve's slightly longer legs propelled him down the dock swiftly, giving Chin a tough job of staying in step with him. The sun had nearly set, deep shades of fuchsia and vermillion streaking the sky above them. They'd spoken to Beth at length about MLC's three founding partners. And after trying and failing to contact their new number one suspect, they'd finally made their way to his home. Nobody had been there, though, leading them to a second choice of locations to apprehend their suspect.

"It's a fifty-two foot Sea Ray yacht. Used, 2007 model, but still worth close to half a million," Chin relayed the information as he caught up with Steve.

"So it would be big enough for a family of four to live on for a while?" Steve asked.

"Easily," Chin nodded as they approached the slip number that the marina guard had directed them to. "You think he's running?"

"You don't?" Steve replied. The two men starred at the empty slip, water slapping lazily against the dock. "The guard said it was here just a few minutes ago," Steve turned toward the direction of the open ocean. "He can't have gotten very far."

They both ran back up to the main stretch of boardwalk that overlooked the marina. Steve and Chin scanned the wide view that their higher vantage point gave them. There was only one boat inching toward the headwaters and they both noticed it at the same time. "Haley," Chin read the cursive letters on the back of the boat. "That's our guy."

Without wasting a second, Steve rushed past Chin toward the dock. "Call for backup!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Don't you think you should… wait," Chin said the last word to his self, knowing it was too late for such things. He shook his head, knowing exactly what his partner was about to do. Chin didn't bother trying to stop Steve, dutifully dialing HPD instead. As he waited for the call to patch through he watched Steve sprint to the end of the dock and leap off the edge.

Steve wasn't about to let a pesky thing like a small expanse of water get in the way of catching his criminal. He felt the air beneath him as he launched off the end of the dock. His arms and legs propelled him forward until his feet finally connected with the boat's deck. Steve recovered quickly and drew his weapon. He moved stealthily along the left side of the boat and made his way up a precast stairway that led to the steering cabin.

Thankfully the engine noise, even at 10 knots, had masked Steve's arrival. "Going somewhere?" he finally revealed his presence to the man at the wheel.

Myer was startled and spun around. His hands reflexively shot in to the air as he spotted the gun trained on him. "What the hell…"

"Is your family on this boat?" Steve asked.

The man's head shook instantaneously. "No, they're visiting friends on the big island," Myer revealed. "I was just headed over there to pick them up."

"Sure you were. And then you planned to disappear," Steve accused as he turned the man around and cuffed him.

"I think you've made a mistake," Keith Myer protested.

"And I think we have a few things to discuss," Steve shoved the man in to a nearby seat before taking the wheel and turning the boat around.

000

"I'm still not sure what this is all about," the man cuffed to their metal chair was the first to speak.

"Well, Mr. Myer," Danny stood still as Steve circled their suspect like a shark. "I don't think you're as dumb as you pretend to be."

Myer shifted a little, having sat there for hours in the dark room alone. "Excuse me?"

"It's clear you were ready to run," Steve stated. "HPD found enough supplies on your boat to last weeks. Your wife and kids flew to the big island on the pretense of visiting friends. But you planned to pick them up and take off. That makes you look very guilty," he concluded. "And we know you were working with Lawson on more than just design projects," Steve added. "We found evidence on her computer to support that fact," he watched the man's eyes widen a little. "Even deleted emails can be recovered if you know what you're doing."

"Pretending it was Dugan blackmailing Chase when all along it was you and Lawson after him," Danny shook his head, "That's pretty low."

"You think I had something to do with that?" Keith finally asked. "You don't have any proof."

Steve smiled, loving how guilty asking for proof made the man sound. "Actually," he walked over to the heavy steel door and opened it. Chin was waiting on the other side. "Were you able to get what we needed?" Steve asked.

Chin nodded as he handed over a tablet computer. "Should we keep her?"

"For a while longer," Steve replied. Chin left and Steve returned to the man in the small interrogation room. "It's an interesting thing, how when one ability is taken away from a person the others kick in," he mused as he and Danny shared a look. Steve nodded as he pressed play on the video file Chin had just handed over to him. He showed Myer the screen. "That's you giving a speech at some conference earlier this year, isn't it?" he asked.

"Obviously," Myer shrugged. "So?"

"Do you know a woman named Tara Lee?" Danny asked. He watched as the man's jaw clenched. "Do you? Simple question."

"Maybe we should jog his memory," Steve suggested. He found the second file Chin had for them, a picture of their tattoo artist. "This is Tara Lee," he showed it to Myer. "Pretty girl, although the cobra tattoo is a little bold. Don't get me wrong, I like tattoos. But on a woman I kinda prefer they be a little more subdued. Still, you've gotta give Tara credit for being a brave woman. Even at the risk of losing her shop she told us everything she could about you."

"I don't know her," Keith Myer shook his head.

"Well, she knows you," Danny assured him. "Tara Lee just identified your voice about five minutes ago when our associate showed her that very same video clip of your conference speech." The detective leaned in toward Myer a little to glare at the man. "Has anyone ever told you that you have very lovely green eyes?"

Myer swallowed but didn't crack. "That's it?"

"Oh, no. We also pulled prints off Lawson's neck," Steve added. "And since you served in the Air Force for ten years…" he shrugged. "Your prints were all over Lawson. That's some very sloppy work. You crushed her throat, but you shot Chase and tossed Dugan in the ocean. Why the different methods?"

"I didn't kill Chase or Cathleen!" Myer replied with conviction.

Danny nodded. "That's right; you got Lawson to do all of that for you. She must've really gotten in to it. You know we originally dismissed her as going after Dugan for her job, but she was going after Chase. Wasn't she? She wanted it to just be the two of you at MLC," he didn't wait for Myer to confirm or deny. "I kind of have to give the woman props for her elaborate plan. The whole branding thing was just plain creepy, though."

"Lawson's idea," the man said dismissively.

"That's convenient," Steve tsked. "She's dead. Can't really explain herself now can she?" He sighed, "I suppose it was some sort of couple that brands themselves must really love each other theory? Lawson must have figured she needed a real good hook that would cement Dugan and Chase as lovers. Too bad she didn't know the guy was gay."

Both men noticed the instant surprise on Myer's face upon that revelation. "And getting you to steal that soldering iron was an interesting move," Steve continued. "It had someone else's prints on it so if you wore gloves the prints would just lead us back to Tara Lee. I get it, though. You couldn't really manage to get Dugan and Chase tattooed, especially in public where someone could be an eye witness. The branding was easier to get by us because it could look a little messy, unprofessional."

"Personally, I think I would've gone with old fashioned love letters," Danny shrugged. "Paper cuts are far less painful."

Steve gave up on figuring out the bizarre reasoning behind Lawson's branding detail. He faced Myer, looked the man in the eye. "What I don't get is how you could look me in the eye the other day and tell me you thought of Cathleen like a daughter, yet you had her killed."

"No… no!" the man grew irritated by that insinuation. "I told you that was Lawson, not me. Cathy… she was never meant to be a part of this."

"So you only meant to kill Chase?" Danny asked.

Myer slumped a little against the chair. "No," he sighed. "I didn't want him dead. Honest. We just wanted him… out," Myer finally confessed.

"Keep talking," Steve insisted.

"Fifteen years ago I started that architectural practice with a man who was a very dear friend, Ryan Conner. We served in the Air Force together," Myer revealed to them. "He was the controlling partner because he put up most of the money. But he and I ran the place as partners. We even agreed to hire Chase and Lawson together. But when Ryan died last year he left instructions that the firm should be turned in to a partnership between Lawson, Chase and I. Otherwise his money would've gone to charity and the firm would be history."

Danny could see his answer in Myer's eyes before he even asked, "You didn't like that, did you?"

"You figured it should've all been yours, the company and the money," Steve guessed.

"Yes, of course it should've," Myer took the bait. "I was there from the start."

"So what happened? How did you plan to make it yours?" Steve still needed a lot more answers.

"Melanie Lawson," he spoke her name with accusation. "She convinced me that we could edge Chase out of the firm."

Steve wasn't surprised he was trying to put all the blame on a dead woman. "But you must've figured out pretty quickly that Chase was happy working at MLC, he did it because he enjoyed it. And he was rich so no amount of money could get rid of him."

Myer nodded. "Melanie found out he had a trust fund," he admitted, "So why did he need to work? He was greedy."

"No, you're the greedy one. Martin Chase was a good man," Steve defended. "What did you do to him?" he pressed.

"A few years ago Melanie started to get close to Martin," Keith Myer reluctantly explained. "They became really good friends, worked on several projects together. He told her everything about his life, even about the trust fund and the fact that he was planning to leave all the money to a good friend of his who he'd known since childhood." Myer sighed, "As soon as she found out about the money, Melanie planned to seduce him."

An approving nod came from Danny. "Nice move," he played along. "She gets him to marry her and the money is hers."

"Obviously she didn't know him as well as she thought she did," Steve said. "Chase was never going to marry her."

"We couldn't figure out why he was resisting," Myer continued. "But she got impatient and decided we needed a different plan."

"So you and Lawson set him up to take the fall over some altered structural drawings," Steve concluded. "How many times did you run that scam?"

Myer suddenly kept his mouth shut.

"Long enough to buy a pricey boat," Danny guessed. "We found footage of you taking that new yacht out kind of late on Monday night. And we know Lawson was the one who took the sailboat Friday night. We caught her on a marina camera, too. But points to you for actually reporting it missing. So…" Danny continued to theorize. "She used the boat to dump Dugan, and managed to kept it hidden somewhere until she went after Chase. But how did she get Chase on the boat without anyone knowing? Or without Chase being suspicious?"

It was obvious to Steve that Myer had decided to stop being cooperative for the moment. So he began to tell the man some interesting facts they'd learned about Lawson over the last few hours of digging in to her life. "Melanie Lawson was an excellent swimmer. She won countless meets in high school and college, was a lifeguard all through school. An avid surfer, too. Oh, and she even won a sailing competition with her father as a teenager."

"Here's what I'm thinking went down," Danny put in. "In the course of her trying to set up Chase, Chase and Dugan realized something was wrong. And they set up those cameras in their offices to find the guilty party."

"Chase came to me threatening to go to the police with the video evidence he had on Lawson," Myer finally revealed. "He said he knew it was her because he recognized the shoes she was wearing. Of all things," the man shook his head.

"Never underestimate an observant gay man," Steve quipped.

"So he went to you, not realizing you were in on it with her," Danny could've laughed at the irony if it hadn't all led to the death of two innocent people.

"Which means she had to come up with a plan C," Steve suspected. "Lawson tried to get the video footage from Chase. When that failed, she killed Dugan, thinking she could set up Chase's best friend to take the blame. She even took some incriminating photos of Harrington with an old girlfriend and paid some sap fifteen grand to deliver them to me."

Danny jumped in again, "Which takes us to Sunday morning. Lawson docks the sailboat over at Chase's place and threatens him about Billy. She tears apart his house looking for the camera evidence. Must have been pretty pissed for such a small woman to do that much damage," he noted. "Chase still holds out, even to the point of hiding the SD card in his mouth. But he doesn't contact the police, hoping to keep his friend Billy from facing murder charges."

"Finally Lawson pretends to give up," Steve continued. "She convinces Chase that the picture evidence she has on Harrington is on the boat. But when he gets on the boat she pulls a gun on him and takes him out to sea. She must've held him hostage for nearly a day, hoping he'd give in. Chase never wavered in protecting Billy and Cathleen, though. So she changed tactics again - coerced a confession out of Chase, branded him and shot him. Then left the boat where Dugan had been dumped to complete the guilty looking suicide."

"And you came along to pick her up with your new boat," Danny accused Myer. "You were sure to let her off somewhere close to shore so she could swim back, which left no evidence of her on camera at your marina," he concluded.

"Lawson was a smart woman, and the plan was well thought out," Steve said. "Would've worked, too, if Chase hadn't been such a loyal friend," he admired the man. "But she was ruled by emotion," Steve pulled out the photo he'd been holding in his back pocket. "This was the only bit of personal effect in Lawson's office," he showed it to their suspect.

Myer's jaw clenched again. "That was taken the day she and Chase made partner."

"She folded Chase out of the picture," Steve pointed out as he unfolded the photo and placed the item on Myer's right knee. "She only had the part with you and her in the frame on her desk. Melanie Lawson was in love with you, wasn't she? That's why she did all of your dirty work for you."

"Were you having an affair?" Danny questioned.

"No way," Keith Myer replied with cold fury as he kicked out, causing the picture to fall to the floor. "I love my wife. Melanie was just a gullible means for me to regain my company."

"You knew about her feelings for you, and you just strung her along," Steve realized.

"That's not a crime, is it?" Myer shrugged.

"No," Danny agreed. "But it should be."

"Melanie deserved everything she got, which was nothing. She stepped over a line when she killed Cathleen!" Myer snarled.

Steve nodded. "Because the one person in all of this you actually seemed to care about was Cathleen Dugan," he spoke those words with confidence. "She was within an age to be your daughter, and she served in the military. You even invited her and her mother in to your home for a holiday. So you killed Lawson out of revenge for what she did to Dugan."

"I'm sorry she went after Cathy," the man finally broke down, leaned over in defeat. "I'm so sorry."

"It's too late to be sorry," Steve sighed in disgust.

000

Catherine pushed the office door open, worried about it being unlocked.

Trooper started barking as soon as they entered the space. "What's wrong, girl?" Catherine asked soothingly, reigning in the animal's leash and holding her close to one side. "You've been here before, remember? Steve brought you here the other day. Let's go find Billy," she encouraged the animal. "Do you remember Billy?" At the mention of his name the dog immediately tugged at her leash again and headed straight for the back offices.

The door to Billy's office was also hanging open. Catherine knocked, stepped inside and glanced around. "Billy?"

Not receiving an answer, she moved in further and checked behind his desk. She finally spotted him there on his hands and knees. "Are you okay?" Catherine asked as she watched him stand. He wobbled a little on his feet and sat down in the black leather chair behind the desk. "You look a little pale. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," he nodded weakly, "Dropped something. Guess I got a little light headed on my way up," he shrugged off her concern. "Commander McGarrett called me this morning. He told me they solved the case," Billy sat back in his chair, successfully changing the subject. "I can't begin to thank him and Five-0 for their help," he relayed, a far-off look clouding his eyes. "I also received a call from Marty's lawyer this morning. Apparently he left me a small fortune."

"Steve mentioned the money to me," Catherine replied, seeing how shocked Billy seemed by the news. "Does that mean your security business is done before it's even started?"

"No," his head shook. "Not if you're still willing to work with me?" he suddenly looked revived and hopeful. "Catherine, I'm not about to spend the rest of my days lying on the beach and sipping fruity drinks," he conveyed. "I'd give every cent of Marty's money back if it meant he and Cathleen were still alive."

Catherine nodded. "I know how you feel." There was still hesitation in her decision, though. "Billy, why didn't you tell Steve everything you told me about Martin and the money?"

"I'm pretty certain I did," his brow line bunched as he looked her in the eye.

Trooper continued to growl lowly, keeping her gaze fixed on Billy. Her behavior confused Catherine. She'd only had the animal a few days but Catherine had taken her running on the beach, and for walks around town. Not once had the dog growled at anyone they passed. She had to wonder if the dog was picking up something about Billy she couldn't. His words seemed sincere, and she didn't know why Billy would lie to her now when he'd been honest with her before.

"Hello?" a soft feminine voice called out from the main room. A moment later a woman appeared in the doorway. "Billy, we'll be late for our lunch reservation if we don't leave…" her words cut out when she spotted Catherine. "Hello," the woman greeted amiably.

"Hi," Catherine smiled, intrigued by the arrival of Billy's lunch date.

"I'm glad you're both here," Harrington stood and moved around his desk. His left arm circled the woman's waist. "Catherine, this is my friend, An," he introduced, aiming a sweet smile at the woman in his arms. "An, this is Catherine," he continued the introductions. "The best Intel agent I could hope to have working for me. She's also an ex, but I told you all that."

An smiled demurely. "Billy's very honest with me," she extended a welcoming hand to Catherine.

"Nice to meet you, An," Catherine shook her hand.

Catherine's first impression of the woman was that she seemed sweet and somewhat shy. She spoke perfect English, but here was a slight accent inflection which lead Catherine to believe An had been born somewhere in China. She was strikingly beautiful with jet-black hair, dark eyes and a lightly tanned complexion. Seeing how comfortable Billy was with An made Catherine happy, hoping the woman might be someone special to her friend.

"I should get going," Catherine said. "I need to get Trooper home before my lunch break is over. Just because it's my last day doesn't mean I should be slacking," she tugged gently on Trooper's leash, urging the dog to get up. Catherine was nearly out the door when she turned back. "Steve and I are having a little gathering Saturday afternoon in honor of my retirement, just a barbeque and a few friends. The two of you should join us," she invited.

"We'll be there," Billy gladly accepted as she turned back toward the door. "Wait, Catherine… I forgot I have something for you," he let go of An and returned to his desk. Billy grabbed a silver key from the top drawer. "Here, I had a copy of the office key made for you," he handed it over.

Catherine realized she hadn't exactly answered him when he'd asked if she was still willing to work with him. But she took the key. "This will come in handy if you ever decide to actually start locking the doors around here," she teased.

He nodded good-naturedly. "I deserve that."

She smiled, but still left the office feeling slightly troubled by her encounter with him.

000

"Let me get this straight, the one time you actually offered to step up and pay for something, and Catherine didn't let you?" Danny questioned.

Steve shrugged as he glanced down at the file on his desk. After a few hours of sleep and a quick shower, Steve had returned to Five-0 HQ. And he and Danny had been working on the paperwork for Myer and Lawson's case all afternoon. "Is there something wrong with letting a woman pay for things?" he challenged.

"Not at all. I just figured Catherine was smarter than that," Danny joked.

"Tell me the truth," Steve closed the file in front of him. "Is there some conversation we should've had about it?"

"Yes, Mr. Know-it-all," Danny snapped. "I do believe the topic, partners paying for household items, was one whole chapter in the book I gave you," he laughed softly. "But you'd know that if you'd actually been reading it. What'd you do, take it home and use it as a door stop?"

"Cute, Danny," Steve replied, picking up the file and making his way out of the office. "I'm glad you enjoy making fun of me. For your information, the book got placed on a shelf behind my dad's old desk in the study."

Danny followed his partner to the main room. "I take that to mean you and Catherine haven't been using it?"

"I told you before, I can communicate with Catherine just fine on my own," Steve insisted.

"Good, great. Go it alone," Danny shrugged indifferently. "Don't tell her you love her, live in sin… makes no difference to me. But it would've at least been nice to say thanks. Thank you for the thoughtful gift, Danny. You're welcome, Steve," he carried on the conversation by himself.

Steve turned to his friend. "Thank you for the gift, Danny," he indulgently repeated.

"Nah. See, it's too late now. The moment passed," Danny waved him off. "Doesn't count if I have to pry it out of you."

Chin came around the corner from his office and met them at the computer. "I just got off the phone with HPD," he announced.

"And judging by the forehead creases, I'm thinking it wasn't a good call?" Steve ventured.

"Depends on how you look at things," Chin replied. "Keith Myer died this morning before they could transfer him to a long-term facility. Duke found him in his cell, thought he was just sleeping. Turns out he suffered a massive heart attack. Died quickly."

Danny's hands pressed against the table. "I guess the stress of it all killed him."

The only ounce of sorrow Steve felt over the man's death was for his wife and children. "That'll save the tax payers some money, no trial or three squares a day," Steve quickly put the man out of his head. He dropped the file on the table. "We're done on our end," he announced. "And I have a bed delivery arriving sometime between 2 and 4pm this afternoon. Which means I get to wait around the house with Trooper until about 5pm, which is when they'll actually show up," Steve guessed. "You two going to be at Catherine's ceremony tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Chin responded with a smile.

Danny nodded. "See you there."

000

He stood in his boxer-briefs, staring at the new bed. "Don't even think about it," Steve warned the canine beside him.

Trooper cocked her head to the right, both ears flattened against her head. She whined softly, looking up at him.

"This is a brand new bed, my friend," Steve shook his head at her. "Catherine gets to be the first one on it. And she'll decide who gets to crawl up there with her tonight. No offence, but I'm pretty confident that's gonna be me," he nodded. Steve smiled to hear the dog whine again. "Oh, please, we both know she'll let you on the bed. Just not until later tonight. Much, much later," Steve spoke with a gentle warning tone.

Looking around the room, Steve noticed all the personal touches added by Catherine's presence in the house. A new bed was the largest of those changes, but there was also a small jar of Tahitian vanilla body lotion on the right-hand side nightstand; her nightstand. And a silky lavender bathrobe hung on a hook by the door. Then there was Catherine's record player, which now resided in the far left corner of the room, furthest spot from the door. He'd been sure to locate it upstairs, per her wishes, in case anyone broke in.

Steve didn't have the heart to tell her that no one breaking in was taking that ancient contraption.

The door to the bathroom opened and she stepped in the room. Catherine immediately noticed the odd way he was standing at the foot of the bed, seemingly afraid to touch it.

His head turned - ready to be wowed by whatever attire she'd planned for their first night together in the new bed. Instead he frowned to see she was wearing a large fluffy white bathrobe. "Is that really what you're planning to wear to bed?" Steve's brows arched even as she walked toward him. "This is something you own, willingly?"

She was still stuck on her previous thought about him staring at the bed. "You said you were okay with this," Catherine pointed out.

"I agreed to you sleeping in a fluffy robe?" his head shook vigorously. "I don't think so. Who even wears that in Hawaii? It's like eighty degrees here all the time."

"I was talking about the bed," Catherine waved a hand at the item. "A second ago I caught you looking at it like you missed the old one."

Steve shrugged. "I did have that beauty since I was twelve."

"I always assumed the brass bed had been your parent's," she replied, a little surprised.

"Nope," Steve said as he tried to get close to her despite the thick robe. "I was twelve the first time my dad took me to a firing range. He didn't actually let me shoot until a year later, but I remember picking up the brass casings from the bullets. So when I had a huge growth spurt the next month and outgrew my kid bed, I picked out that brass bed. Though it was very cool to have a whole bed made out of bullet casings," he recalled. "I have some good memories of that bed as a teenager, a lot of solo practice sessions."

"Thanks for not sharing that teenaged boy information with me until the bed was gone." She kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry, though. I didn't realize what that bed meant to you."

He smiled, draping his arms over her shoulders and stroking the soft hairs at the back of her neck, still mystified by the robe she was wearing. "You mean more to me than any bed," his words somewhat echoed the ones she'd spoken to him about her stuff. "Although, we had plenty of nice times together in that bed," Steve reminded her. "It's much better to have a partner for such things," he grinned. "Are you saying you don't appreciate all of my practice years?"

"Oh, I appreciate them," she agreed, somewhat distracted by his roaming hands which had gone to the sash at her waist. Catherine side-stepped him and cinched the robe a little tighter. She squatted in front of Trooper and gave the dog some love. "Go to your bed downstairs, Trooper," Catherine instructed.

Steve was impressed when the dog left their room upon her command.

"If I tell you something," Catherine turned her attention back to Steve as she went to sit down on the bed. "Will you promise not to laugh?"

"I'd never laugh at you," Steve agreed as he joined her. He stood in front of her, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind her left ear. "Are you about to tell me about your teenaged practice sessions?" he waggled his brow.

She softly kicked him away and reclined against the bed, "Never mind." Catherine flipped on to her belly and rested against the pillow, head turned away from him.

"Hey, I was just kidding," Steve climbed over her and settled down beside her. "I'm sorry, Cath," he could tell she'd obviously been trying to say something serious. "I'll behave, promise. Tell me what's up?" He watched her eyes roll before he realized what he'd said wrong. Steve curled up closer, his chest pressed against her side. He looked her in the eye, a hand slowly caressing her robe covered arm. "I swear the word _up_ was not meant to be a sexual innuendo. Although, I should point out that you're the one who took it that way."

Catherine actually chuckled a little at that. "It's kind of silly," she breathed out, turning on to her side to face him. "Earlier today, before my ceremony, I was in the locker room and ended up crying over packing up and putting my uniform away," she confessed.

Those words struck him, always surprised when her tough exterior revealed a crack. "Told you it wouldn't be an easy transition," he sympathized. "Of course I never cried over my uniform, but you should cut yourself some slack, Catherine. You joined up when you were still just a kid, and you were a Navy brat before that. It's the only life you've ever known. But you're going to be fine on the outside," Steve assured her. "You already have a job and a place to live."

The mention of her job brought Harrington to mind. "Did you notice Billy wasn't at my ceremony tonight after he said he would be?" Catherine asked. "And this afternoon at his office he was kind of out of it for a moment, disoriented. Maybe it's just grief."

Steve sighed, "He's not a topic I want to be thinking about right now."

She nodded. "You're right, no more talk about Billy tonight. And you're right about moving forward. I should stop being such a wimp and suck it up."

"You're about the least wimpy person I know, Catherine," Steve assured. He pointed a finger at her. "But you said _up_," he grinned.

"And you are in a very flirty mood tonight," Catherine chuckled. "I like it."

Steve reclined on his back, lacing his fingers behind his head. "I'm kinda bummed I can't sing Bob Dylan's _Lay Lady Lay_ to you now that my big brass bed is gone."

A bark of laughter escaped her lips, thoughts of Billy completely forgotten as she rested her chin against Steve's chest. "You never sang that to me," Catherine replied.

"The point is I could've," he spoke with a distinctly unserious tone. "And now I can't," Steve pouted.

With slow, deliberate moves, Catherine transitioned to a kneeling position on the bed. She took hold of his hand and pulled him upward to join her. Catherine directed him to take hold of the fluffy sash at her waist. "Maybe I could help ease your grief over the loss of your bed," she offered.

"Oh, yeah?" his curiosity returned, hands resting on the sash. "It might take a lot of easing," Steve whispered as he untied the robe and carefully peeled it off her shoulders.

Catherine only allowed the robe to dip past her shoulders a few inches, revealing mostly bare skin but also two dark green spaghetti straps. Seeing the way his tongue was nearly hanging out of his mouth, she finally put him out of his misery and removed the rest of the bathrobe. It was tossed to the floor without a second thought. "For our first night in the new bed, I decided to wear the gift you bought for me."

"You mean the gift I bought for the bed," Steve corrected her as his hands reached out to caress the silky camouflage negligée.

"Do you think the bed will like it?" she played along, clasping her hands behind his neck, knowing for certain he'd bought the camo lingerie for his benefit alone.

He nodded, kissing her left shoulder and then her right. "The bed and I approve," Steve said, his lips moving toward the vast depth of cleavage the gown revealed. "But I don't think the bed is going to see much of it, because I don't think it's going to stay on long."

"That a promise?" Catherine asked, her voice thick with anticipation.

Steve pulled away and chastely kissed her cheek before getting out of bed.

He smiled to see the disappointment flicker in her eyes as he walked across the room. Steve squatted in front of the record player and found her new Chicago album propped against the machine. He pulled the vinyl from its sleeve and gently set it on the turntable. When the needle made contact with vinyl, a hiss of static crackled through the air for a moment before the music began. The first notes of the song began to drift across the room as he lowered the lights.

As he moved toward her again, purposely slow, the song continued to play… "_Life is lovely, when you're near me… tell me you will stay, and make me smile…_"

With a mixture of awe and amusement, Catherine remained kneeling on the bed as she watched Steve's lips move in time with some of the lyrics to her favorite song. "I never knew your singing voice sounded so much like Terry Kath," she teased him, her big smile letting him know just how glad she was to be near him.

He reached for her and gently pulled the camo negligee over her head. Steve flung it to join her robe on the floor. Then he lovingly laid her down on the bed. "One of the many things you'll learn about me," Steve teased, hovering above her as he softly kissed her lips.

"That so?" she asked with barely restrained composure. Catherine stared up at him, "There's something different about you tonight." She could see the desire in his eyes, but there was more. Something she didn't think she'd ever seen before.

"I'm just really happy right now, Catherine," he was surprised by how easily the words came to him. Steve couldn't even recall the last time he'd been so content with his life. And he attributed most of it to her presence. "We finally solved our case, which means there's no crazy stalker after you," he sighed with relief. "And I'm about to get lucky with the prettiest retired Navy lieutenant on the planet. So what's not to be happy about?"

She grinned, using both hands to free him from the last burden of clothing separating them. His boxer-briefs joined her gown and robe. Catherine wrapped one leg around his back, gently digging in her heel to draw him closer. "Show me how happy you are," she enticed.

Blue eyes gazed in to brown. "Welcome home, Catherine," he whispered before their bodies joined.

000

Saturday afternoon yielded clear skies and plenty of sunshine.

From her vantage point on the back lanai, Trooper curled at her feet, Catherine took time to enjoy the people who'd gathered on her behalf. Chin had brought along his friend, Leilani, who they all liked a lot. Not that Chin needed their approval, but he certainly had it. Kamekona was there with his cousin Flipper. They'd arrived with a shrimp feast to go with the steaks Steve was grilling. Max and Sabrina stood closer to the water, chatting with Danny.

Catherine selfishly wished Kono could be there, though not so much to share her retirement. But because she missed her friend. What she'd told Steve held true, making friends was not something that came easily for her. And she'd just been getting to know Kono better before the woman had left.

"Hi, Catherine," Grace's sweet voice was accompanied by an equally bright smile. The girl plunked down in a wicker chair beside Catherine. She sat her colorful beach bag on the ground and gave Trooper an affectionate pat. "I'm sorry I didn't get to see you retire yesterday," Grace said, looking to Catherine again. "I hope Danno told you why. I was cheering for our basketball team and we won," she grinned.

"That's great, kiddo," Catherine smiled, "Much better than watching a stuffy military ceremony." She smoothed a hand along Grace's silky dark hair. "I'm glad you could be here today."

"Me, too," the young woman smiled again. "I'm glad you get to stay on the island all the time now, and I can see you every time we visit Uncle Steve," Grace pointed out. "Or if I just want to visit you," she reached over and grabbed something out of her bag. "This is for you," Grace said as she passed the large rectangular wrapped gift to her friend.

"Grace, we said no gifts," Catherine reminded, though she was very touched by the gesture.

The girl nodded. "I know, but it wasn't an expensive gift. Do you remember last year when you took me and my Aloha Girl troop on that tour of your ship, the _Enterprise_?" Grace watched Catherine nod. "I thought you might miss it now that you're retired. So I made this for you. Open it," she encouraged.

Catherine happily tore off the blue cloud wrapping paper and revealed a framed photograph of the _Enterprise_. The smile that lit her face was one born of fond memories. "This is perfect, sweetheart. Thank you so much."

Grace looked to her friend and could see the tear rolling down Catherine's face. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"Only happy tears, kiddo," Catherine quickly assured the girl, swiping away her tear.

Steve came up behind them and leaned against the back of Catherine's chair. He reached over and tousled Grace's hair. "What's going on, ladies?" Steve spied the picture on Catherine's lap. "That's great. You do that, Grace?" he flashed a smile at the girl.

"Yep, Uncle Steve," Grace beamed proudly. She got down on the ground to pet Trooper again. "Does Trooper know any tricks?" she asked Catherine.

"I've taught her a few things," Catherine replied. "She picked up the sit and stay commands real quick. And there's something special I just started working on with her."

"What is it?" Grace asked.

"Can't say," Catherine leaned forward a little. "It's a surprise," she kept her voice low.

The girl inched closer and spoke softly so only Catherine could hear her. "For Uncle Steve?"

"Yep," Catherine confirmed.

"Cool," Grace smiled again. She noticed the stick Trooper was protectively pressing both paws against. Grace grasped the stick and waved it in front of the dog. Trooper immediately came to life, jumping up and following the stick with her eyes. Grace finally tossed the stick, and she and the dog both chased after it.

With his hands still resting against her chair, Steve leaned in and kissed the side of Catherine's neck. "Steaks will be ready soon and we can eat," he whispered in her ear.

"You're such a romantic," Catherine chuckled, turning to look up at him. "Seriously, thank you for this. You're too good to me. I feel like a queen."

"I am too good to you," he winked, kissed her again and then pushed off from the chair. "I'm going to grab the salad from the fridge, my queen," Steve teased. "You stay and enjoy your day." He took off for the house, slipping in the back door just as a loud knock came from the front door. Steve cut through the living room and answered the door straight away, finding Billy on his doorstep with a woman. "Harrington," Steve's greeting was lukewarm.

He was a little irked that the man had forgotten Catherine's ceremony, but managed to show up for the party.

"Catherine invited me," Billy said.

With a slow nod, Steve did his best to be civil. "She told me," he finally replied. "You brought a friend," Steve recalled Billy telling him he was seeing someone. And now he could see she was not too far off the pattern of women Billy seemed to like, dark hair and eyes.

"This is An Zhou," Billy introduced the woman with him.

"Nice to meet you," Steve's welcome was warmer for her. "Everyone is out back," he let them know. "And there are drinks in the kitchen, which is off to your right. Help yourselves."

"Thank you," An smiled.

"Thanks," Billy took her hand and was about to set off. "Oh, I almost forgot about this," he handed Steve a white envelope. "It was on your doorstep when we arrived," Harrington shrugged, "I figured it was a card for Catherine that someone dropped, but then I noticed your name on it."

Steve's mostly good mood shattered upon seeing the white envelope. The addition of his name was new, written with thick, blocky hand letting. He did his best to hide the trepidation he was feeling. "Thanks, I'll see you out back in a few," he waited until Billy and his date were out of sight before he carefully slid a finger along the underside of the envelope flap and pried it open. The pictures that greeted him were similar to the previous ones he'd been sent. Same size and amateurish quality.

There were five pictures in total, all images of Catherine on the beach with Trooper. Catherine tossing a stick for Trooper to retrieve from the water. Catherine sitting in the sand with Trooper curled up close. Catherine receiving a sloppy lick on the cheek from Trooper. "Son of a…" Steve grumbled as he continued to flip through the stack.

"Hey, Steve," Danny called out from across the room. "I think your steaks need tending out on the grill, and Catherine said not to touch them because that was your kingly domain," he slapped his partner on the shoulder. "Oh, and I just passed Billy as he was walking out to the backyard," Danny glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one could overhear them. "I see he brought a date. An. That's a good thing, right? Not a Catherine or a Cathleen, just An. Means he's a liar, but probably not a threat to Catherine."

"Maybe not him," Steve replied stoically. "But someone is still after her, Danny," he handed over the photographs.

"Ah, crap," Danny concluded upon viewing the very first image.

"Those are just from this morning," Steve further explained. "Catherine and I took Trooper for a run. Afterwards I had to get showered and changed so I could go to the store for the steaks, but Catherine must have stayed on the beach with the dog for a while. And these pictures were left on the doorstep. Meaning someone was here, close to our home, twice."

"Lawson and Myer are dead," Danny reminded them both. "So who the heck could be doing this?"

"I don't know, Danny," Steve sighed. "That's what scares me," he finally admitted fear. "I can't control what I don't know."

* * *

**To be continued…**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Hawaii Five-0_.

**Thank you to all who are still reading this saga. And to the few kind folks who have left reviews, you're the best! This part is mostly the calm before the storm, but I hope you will enjoy it.**

* * *

**You Owe Me  
****Part 7**

By  
N. J. Borba

* * *

He stepped over the threshold and stopped as soon as he spotted her on the floor.

Afternoon sunlight filtered through the back windows. It funneled through the archway to create a wide swatch of golden light in the living room. Steve found Catherine laying directly in the sunlight's path. He leaned against the open front door frame and crossed his arms while he watched her. Catherine's head and arms made contact with the pad on the floor but her legs were stretched backwards over her head, toes touching the wood floor. Her eyes were closed and he couldn't be sure if she was even breathing.

"What're you doing down there?" he finally asked.

She opened her eyes and turned her head a little to face him, still maintaining her position. "I didn't even hear you come in," Catherine's tone was light and airy, not startled at all.

"I'm guessing because you were in some Zen-like yoga trance," Steve almost laughed but saw the focus in her eyes. "You really get in to this stuff, don't you?"

"It's relaxing," Catherine replied as her eyes closed again.

Steve couldn't stop his worried mind from thinking about who else could've walked in on her in such a tranquil state. And she might not have even heard them. He hoped Trooper would've barked to alert her, though at the moment the dog was curled up in a sunny spot by the back door, napping blissfully. The latest set of photographs had arrived via mail to Five-0 headquarters a week ago. So far there'd been one set a week for over a month. And he hadn't told her about any of them yet.

His thoughts drifted to the day of her retirement party.

"_Steve?" Catherine called out._

"_We should tell her," Danny said to his partner as he stood in the living room, still holding the pictures, still feeling helpless in regard to his friends Steve and Catherine - one of them clearly being stalked, and the other looking like he wanted to rip someone's head off._

"_Not now," Steve snatched the pictures out of his friend's hand, stuffed them in the envelope and tucked them in the back waistband of his jeans. He pulled his t-shirt down to cover the envelope just as Catherine entered the room. "Hey," he stepped forward and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "Danny and I were just on our way outside," Steve assured her._

"_Okay," Catherine's tone was somewhat hesitant as she eyed the two men suspiciously. "You're good with Billy being here, aren't you?"_

_He nodded. "It's fine."_

_She studied them both again for a moment. "I'll go grab the salad for you. Can't be completely lazy today."_

_They waited, standing at attention, until she'd disappeared inside the kitchen. "Danny, go tend the steaks," Steve instructed. "You have my permission."_

"_And what are you planning to do with those pictures?" Danny questioned, concerned about his friend's dangerous mood._

"_Hide them for now," Steve replied with conviction._

_With a shake of his head Danny edged toward the back door. "Just be sure you know what you're doing. She needs to know eventually," he warned._

_Steve nodded. "You're right, just not today, Danny. I don't want to ruin this party for her."_

His not today motivation had seemed harmless enough, but Steve realized it had been nearly four weeks and he still hadn't bothered to tell Catherine about the pictures of her on the beach. Or the newer ones he'd received; her walking Trooper downtown on a lunch break. Or her and Billy at a fundraiser where they were working security detail for a diplomat. Or even the most recent ones showing her arriving outside of Five-0 headquarters.

"You okay?" Catherine asked.

He blinked, realizing she was now standing on her yoga mat. "Fine."

"Come here," she held her left hand out, beckoning him to join her on the mat. Catherine smiled when he followed her orders, probably thinking he was going to be rewarded with a kiss. Instead she positioned him about a foot in front of her, her hands on his tense biceps. "You need to relax."

Steve allowed his hands to brush against her waist. He ogled her navy shorts and turquoise tank top and smiled. "I like this plan."

"Yoga," she pushed his hands off her waist and lifted her right leg. "I was talking about yoga," Catherine pressed her right foot against the inside of her left thigh and then raised both arms above her head. "It can help you relax."

"What is that, some sort of flamingo pose?" Steve joked.

"Tree pose," Catherine replied in a calm voice. "You should try it," she challenged.

When her eyes closed again, Steve was tempted to just flee the room. Instead he decided to make an effort at doing something out of his comfort zone. "This isn't so hard," Steve said proudly as he stood there mirroring her pose, hands above his head and balancing on one leg.

Catherine reopened her eyes and smiled. His raised leg was much more flexible than she would've guessed. "I'm impressed," she smiled, more touched than anything that he'd actually given it a go. "You're pretty good at this," she was further mesmerized as he managed to hold the pose for a long period of time, the two of them looking in to one another's eyes.

"I'm good at everything I do," he replied with a grin.

"Cocky, too," Catherine chuckled.

"I love when you talk dirty," he leaned forward for a kiss but lost his balance.

Steve dropped his leg in an attempt to regain solid footing, but he still stumbled forward causing her to topple over as well. He couldn't stop their inevitable fall to the floor, but his hands went out to brace himself. Catherine ended up taking the brunt of it as he collapsed against her, but Steve managed to slip one hand beneath her head before it could connect with the hard floor. "That's twice you've tripped me in the last month," she observed, starring up at him, a bit dazed.

Trooper jumped up from her sunny napping spot by the back door and trotted in to the living room to check out the source of the noise. Steve propped himself up a little, hovering above her, chest to chest. "Pretty sure I know the name of this position," he said before finally completing his kiss.

She smiled, yielding to the softness of his lips. "This position has it's relaxing benefits, too," Catherine agreed.

"Would it be weird if I asked for a rain check on this?" he asked, halting the obvious direction they were headed. Steve rolled to his side and sat up. "I've been out in the garage all morning and I only came in because there's a favor I wanted to ask you," he confessed.

"I'm pretty sure you still owe me for about half a dozen past favors," she pointed out, sitting up and drawing her knees close to her chest.

He winced, knowing she was right. "So that's a no?"

"No," she smiled as he stood and took her by the hand to help her up. "That's a yes," Catherine agreed.

"Promise I'll make it up to you," Steve kissed her palm then led her across the front yard to the garage.

Trooper trailed behind them and was content to sniff around and explore the garage.

Catherine found herself beside the driver's door of John McGarrett's old, black Mercury, which was currently jacked up off the concrete garage floor. She smiled when Steve opened the door and gave her a hand up. "I just need you to sit here for a few minutes and help me bleed the brakes," he finally explained the favor. "When I give the go ahead you just have to pump the brakes several times and then hold down the pedal. Easy, right?"

"Sounds like it," she nodded as he closed the door for her. Catherine sat in the spacious front seat, watching as Steve grabbed a wrench and small work light. He laid down on the creeper bench and rolled beneath the car.

"This is nice, isn't it?" he called from under the Mercury. "The two of us living together, having more time to spend together."

"Yeah, it's great," there was more than a little sarcasm laced in her words. "I just never realized you asked me to live with you so you could have a personal mechanic's assistant," Catherine teased.

"I'll have you know that I don't let just anyone touch this car," Steve's voice was somewhat muffled from below. "Allowing you in the driver's seat there, that's a rare privilege," he noted. "Okay, go ahead and pump the brake for me, and…"

"Hold it down," she echoed. "I've got this," Catherine performed the task for him. Several seconds after she'd pumped and held her foot down, the brake pedal slowly moved closer to the floor of the car on its own. "Is it supposed to do that?" she called down.

"Yep, perfect," he replied. "Now I just need a repeat performance on the other side."

She completed the task when he gave the sign and Steve reappeared from beneath the vehicle. He tapped at the window. Catherine rolled down the window and grinned when he leaned against the car and kissed her. "That it?" she asked.

"Done," Steve confirmed. "Thank you." He watched her place both hands on the steering wheel. "You look good in my dad's car."

"Pretty sure I know why you like this thing, it's a tank," Catherine remarked. "Only slightly classier."

"Not everyone likes tiny cars," he replied. Steve ran a hand affectionately along the shiny black paint of the front left fender. "You get hit in this baby and you'd barely feel it."

Catherine knew he was teasing her about the small blue corvette she drove, which he avoided when at all possible due to his height. But she didn't take offense. "No kidding, you could probably ride out the end of the world in this sucker, or a zombie attack at the very least," she joked. She swiveled her gaze to the back seat and her eyes went wide. "Jeez, I think I know why so many kids were conceived in old cars like this. That back seat is huge," Catherine noticed.

His brow rose suggestively when her eyes returned to him. "Care to join me?" Steve nodded toward the back seat.

The two of them crawled in the back and sat side-by-side. "I could take a nice nap back here," Catherine declared.

"A nap, huh?" Steve draped one arm across her shoulder. "That all you want to do back here? Or would you like to cash in on that rain check?"

She sighed, "Does it ever bother you?"

"Does what bother me?" Steve's playful mood was overshadowed by her odd reaction to his suggestion.

"The fact that we don't talk," Catherine's tone turned contemplative.

He retracted his arm and shifted to face her. "Cath, what are you going on about? We talk all the time. We're talking right now. See, when my lips move that means sound is coming out, words and sentences. That's talking," Steve nodded for emphasis.

"You're a butthead," she folded her arms across her chest, not amused. "What I meant is that it seems like everything we do eventually leads to sex. We manage one yoga pose together and it leads to thoughts of sex. We actually eat a meal together and it leads to sex. We watch a movie on the sofa together and it leads to… you get the idea."

Steve nodded. "Yes, but I'm not exactly seeing why that's a bad thing?" he questioned. "What's got you so troubled about having sex all of a sudden? Danny mentioned the whole conversation topic with you, right? Is it about the book he bought for us?"

"I just feel like we don't talk enough…" she stopped short. "What book?"

"Not important," Steve dismissed. "What is there to talk about that's so important?" he questioned. "Work is good for me, and for you. You're working with Billy, he seems to be behaving himself. He's not a murderer, which makes me feel better about you working with him."

"Ugh," she sighed, slouched against the seat. "Something other than work or Billy," Catherine groaned as she gazed up at the car's headliner.

"Okay, what then?" he tried to set things right. "Let's have a talk, a grown-up discussion about anything you want. Pick a topic," Steve could already see the wheels turning in her head and he cringed to realize he'd said any topic. "Okay, just not Opera, please. I know it's one of the book topics, but I don't understand it. And I know I've never actually tried to understand it, but I just don't get its appeal."

Catherine stared at him for a long time before she dared to say anything. "Steve, why would I ever want to talk to you about Opera?"

"You mentioned it the other day," he recalled. "I was on my way out the door and admittedly not listening very closely, but you were talking about your mom calling and something about General Hospital," Steve tried to jog her memory.

She chuckled and sat up straighter. "That's a _Soap_ Opera," Catherine clarified. "My mom and I used to watch it together after school when I was a kid. It was a thing we had, just about anywhere we were stationed we could watch that show and feel like everything was normal," she explained. "And I only mentioned it the other day because of my mom finally getting her CNA like she's been wanting to do for a while now."

"That's right," he nodded. "Certified Nursing Assistant."

Catherine regarded him for a moment until she realized he wasn't going to say anything else. "That's really all you have to contribute?"

He shrugged, "I'm glad you weren't talking about the singing type of Opera like I thought," Steve offered.

"I give up," she sighed, her head lolling against the back of the seat again.

"Hey," Steve tried to regain her attention. "Seriously, Cath, you know I'm not very good at this. I'm more a physical guy, that's how I convey my emotions. Talking about our feelings was not exactly something we did well in the McGarrett family. I give you my mother as a prime example."

"Since we're being honest, it's not something my family did very well either," she realized again how alike they were. "But I know I've seen glimpses of you that are sensitive and thoughtful," Catherine smiled, cherishing those times. "I guess I figured living together might bring that out of you even more. We're not just coming and going like we used to. We need to actually fill more time than it takes to have sex."

Steve was a little wounded by that comment. "But you and I both know I can take my time when it comes to sex," he leaned forward and kissed her quickly before she could protest.

She savored the slightly impatient tug of his lips against hers, but pushed a finger against his chest and tried not to smile. "See," Catherine did her best to thwart his behavior. "You always do that, you always go to your strengths. But some day we're going to be old and gray-haired and sex is just going to be a memory for us."

"I don't know who you're growing old and gray with, Cath, but sex is always going to be on my priority list," Steve stated without a doubt. "Even with my cute little old lady," he winked, liking the way she'd implied the two of them would be growing old together. But he could see she was not entirely swayed by his power of persuasion. "Sorry," he sat back. "So… your mom got her CNA, and I was distracted when you tried to tell me about that the other day. I didn't get the chance to tell you how great that news is. I'm proud of Elizabeth, I know she's been thinking about taking that step for a while now. I'm glad she went for it."

"So am I," Catherine was again reminded that he could be a sentimental guy. "It was only about a six week program, but apparently she did really well. She's even thinking about getting a job at the nursing home a few blocks from her and Ted's place."

"I'm sure she'd be a great fit there," Steve didn't know her mother well, but enough to know she'd raised a very compassionate daughter. "And she can finally stop being so dependent on Ted the step-dad."

"I didn't say that," she grew defensive.

"But it's okay if you were thinking it," Steve allowed. "I know lots of kids don't like their step-parents," he added. "It's natural."

Her lips pressed together tightly for a moment. "I'm not a kid, Steve. And why do you think I don't like Ted? He's a good guy," Catherine went on. "He's a shoes salesman," her nose crinkled a little at the mention. "What's not to like about that? It's perfectly good, honest work. He's owned his own shoe shop for twenty years. I think that's great. People always need shoes. There's nothing wrong with Ted," she rambled on.

"Who you trying to convince, me or yourself?" Steve had easily picked up on her dislike of the man the first time she'd ever mentioned him. "Catherine, you roll your eyes every time you talk about the guy," he pointed out.

Catherine unconsciously rolled her eyes at his remark, realizing her mistake too late. "Okay, maybe… but not _every_ time I talk about Ted," she insisted.

"You just did it again," he told her.

"Fine. Ted is rather dull," she confessed. "There, I said it. Are you happy?"

He wasn't happy, but proud of her for admitting it. "Not surprising really. How can you compare a Navy Rear Admiral to a shoes salesman? Those are some pretty big shoes to fill, all pun intended," he watched her try to keep a smile in check. "Come on, this is a fun conversation we're having right here. Admit it."

"I will not make fun of Ted just for conversation sake," Catherine held out.

"You're a better person than me, Cath," he kissed her cheek and let his arm resume course across her shoulder. "So, what are we doing for Thanksgiving? I was thinking you and me on the beach, a turkey sandwich picnic and maybe some surfing. Later we can give thanks for each other," Steve suggested. "And yes," he nodded. "I do realize that was me leading back to sex. But am I really supposed to walk in on you with your butt and legs over your head and not be turned on?"

She could only smile as his fingers gently caressed the back of her neck. Catherine relaxed against him. "I'm sorry if I made you think that sex with you was in any way not a good thing. That was not my intention, because it is always a good thing, trust me. Very… _very_ good," she emphasized. "But about Thanksgiving, I thought maybe we could invite some people over," Catherine broached the subject casually.

"What people?" he was already skeptical.

"Holidays are for gathering with family and friends," Catherine remarked. "And when we had breakfast with Danny last Sunday he mentioned that he would have Grace for Thanksgiving. And if Chin isn't doing anything…" she shrugged.

"Danny, Grace, Chin… and?" Steve could tell she was working up to something else.

Catherine nervously sucked in her bottom lip. "I thought we could invite your sister, and your mom," she mentioned in a much softer voice. By the way his body tensed at the mention of his mother, Catherine knew he'd heard her loud and clear. "Have you talked to Doris recently?"

"Not since she escorted Adam and Kono off the island," his tone was clipped and filled with barely masked disappointment. "Mary let me know mom has been staying with her in California. My sister actually tells me stuff, at least more so than my mother," Steve let out a shallow breath. "It's fine, though. The two of them need to spend some time together. Mother-daughter bonding and all of that, maybe watch some soap operas," he quipped. "I just know my mother's doing it to avoid me and that pisses me off," he told her the truth. "So I'm thinking Thanksgiving with her this year isn't a good idea."

"Okay…" Catherine could tell he was serious about not seeing his mother, but she wasn't one to give in so easily. "But the whole point of Thanksgiving is to be thankful and to be with the people you care about most. And even though she's hurt you a great deal, I know you still love her. She's your mother, Steve."

He sighed. "What about your parents? You invited them?" Steve knew he was changing the subject a bit, but didn't care.

"I did," Catherine nodded, sensing his unease with the previous conversation. "Mom is spending Thanksgiving through New Year's with Ted and his kids in Vermont. Apparently they arranged it all last year, rented a ski cabin and everything. She did promise to come out here next year, maybe for Christmas," Catherine shrugged it off. "And my dad is running training exercises in Kuwait through March."

"Wow, is he ever planning to retire?" Steve wondered.

"I seriously doubt it," she remarked with a smile.

Steve could see she was doing a decent job of pretending it was okay that her parents wouldn't be around for the holidays, but he knew her better than that. "Fine," he relented on her suggestion. "We'll invite Mary and my mom to Thanksgiving. But if they don't show I hope you won't be disappointed to just spend the day with me."

"Never," she assured him. "You'll call them?" Catherine decided not to allow him to wallow.

"Sure," he nodded.

Her brows arched skeptically. "Promise?"

"Yes, I promise," Steve declared. "I'm sorry your parents won't be here," he held her tightly. "Next year we'll take your mother up on her offer and have a huge Thanksgiving feast here. And who knows, maybe your dad will be free. Sound good?"

"Neither of them would come for Thanksgiving, not even separately, but it's a nice thought," she smiled, touched that he was thinking that far in to the future. Catherine liked the idea of holiday celebrations with him, even if it was just the two of them. "Is it silly for me to miss spending holidays with both my parents together?" Catherine sighed. "I guess that's what happens when people get married for the wrong reason, they eventually divorce and the kids end up with separate holidays," she allowed herself to indulge in a moment of self-pity.

"I'm sorry you can't have them both here at the same time," Steve did his best to sympathize.

She shrugged, feeling like a foolish kid. "I always knew they hated each other. They only got married because of me."

He wasn't used to such a defeatist attitude from her. Since they'd met she'd never really lamented her parent's divorce. It had happened several years before he ever knew her so Steve figured it had been something she'd dealt with a while back. "I'm sure that's not true, Catherine."

"It is true," she maintained. "The two of them in the same room together was almost always a disaster, Steve. They weren't happy until they divorced," Catherine sighed. "When I was thirteen I helped my mom pack a bunch of office files for our move from Japan to Florida. I accidently saw their marriage license. It clearly states that they got married only six months before I was born," Catherine revealed.

"Maybe you showed up early?" he tried to think of a good reason, though the odds seemed against his theory. She seemed pretty certain.

Her head shook. "At eight pounds fourteen ounces? Doubtful," she sighed.

"And you've only gained ten pounds since birth," Steve teased.

Catherine smiled a little but regained her solemn tone. "They argued all the time. And after Ben…"

Steve felt a chill wash over him as he looked her in the eye, seeing the way her whole body deflated. There was something in the way she'd spoken the name that troubled him. "Who's Ben?" he bravely asked. "Did your mother have an affair?"

"No," Catherine whispered.

The small sound of her voice nearly broke his heart. Steve held her hand, letting her know he was there for her no matter what. "You don't have to tell me, Cath," he offered.

Tears pricked her eyes as she spoke the next few words, "Ben was my baby brother," Catherine revealed.

"Oh," it was about the last thing he'd been expecting to hear. Steve had only ever known her to be an only child, same as he'd told Danny.

"Maybe they figured having another baby could fix things," she shrugged. "Remember the Christmas when I got my puppy, Cowboy?" Catherine watched Steve nod, keeping quiet as she continued to talk. "The dog was sort of a bribe, I think. They figured after six years of being an only child I'd be upset to have a sibling. They were right. I was almost seven when he was born and I didn't really want anything to do with him. It had always just been me and my parents."

He tenderly squeezed her hand. "Something changed, though?" Steve guessed.

"I couldn't help love him," Catherine confirmed. "He was so sweet, and almost always happy."

The unshed tears in her eyes, coupled with the fact that she'd never mentioned a brother before left Steve fearing the worst. "Catherine, what happened to Ben?"

"It was a week before Thanksgiving… he was only six months old… just didn't wake up," a tear finally rolled down her cheek but she didn't bother to wipe it away. "I overheard my parents say something about a heart defect that went undetected," she breathed out. "After he died the house was so quiet. My parents didn't argue for months. But then everything went back to the way it'd been before. My dad took a long-term assignment overseas. My mom drove me to ice skating lessons, softball practice, made cookies for bake sales…"

She took a breath, "They never talked about Ben and I followed their lead. They just returned to arguing about money, bills and my dad being away all the time. When I graduated high school early, at age seventeen, I asked them to sign off on my Navy entrance. They did it without question. And a week after I left for basic training they filed for divorce," she remembered. "One week. So clearly they only stayed together for me."

Steve gently brushed her tears away with the pad of his thumb. "I'm so sorry about your brother, Catherine," the words sounded hollow but they were all he had. "I had no idea you'd been through something like that," Steve was still trying to process it, not able to imagine life without his sister. "As much as I tormented Mary sometimes, I never…" he sucked in a breath and pulled Catherine closer.

"I never told anyone about Ben until just now," she whispered, her head rested against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry your parents closed themselves off, but the way I see it, they cared enough to stick around for you," he offered.

That comment left her feeling rather thoughtless. "I wasn't even thinking about what Doris did, leaving you," Catherine sighed. "You're right. I had my parents around and I'm thankful of that. I just think sometimes you shouldn't stay together for your kid's sake. Kids know when things aren't right and what lesson does that teach them?"

They sat there for a long time. Silence permeating the big back seat of his father's old Mercury.

"I don't ever see myself getting married," Catherine finally let the words fall. "It only seems to complicate things."

Her words caused his thoughts to spin, recalling his brief ring search and the failed marriage proposal in her kitchen. "I get that your parent's marriage example was obvious not a healthy one," he realized. "At least I know my parents loved each other. Before my mom left we were a happy family. Which is why it hurt so much to lose her," he confessed.

"I'm sure between the two of us we could write a book," she sympathized.

She was right, of course. But for some reason he didn't want to take that easy road of blame. "We don't have to be our parents, Catherine. Or make their mistakes," Steve said. "Maybe we could even learn from them."

"Are you being serious right now?" Catherine wondered.

He recalled something Danny had said to him several weeks ago. "I know I'm happier with you than I am alone," Steve revealed to her. "You make me want to be better, Cath. You make me want more than I thought I'd ever want. I'd like to prove that I don't have to keep living in my parent's shadow. Don't you want to prove that, too?"

"Maybe," she replied, somewhat shocked by the answer.

"Maybe?" Steve nodded, the hint of a smile on his face. "I guess that's better than a no."

"I'm just not sure marriage will ever be right for me," Catherine let him know.

He was disappointed by that conclusion, but not enough to let it go. She was right about how he usually shied away from serious conversations, but Catherine had changed all that. The more he knew her the more he wanted to know about her. And there were obviously still things he knew little or nothing about. "Pretty sure I'm meant to be the one running away from marriage talk. I figured this is what you wanted. When you were getting ready to leave the Navy you mention thinking about the future."

"Yes, and you were the one thing I saw in that future, even very far in to it," she conveyed. "Steve, I know that whether I'm working a case with Billy or maybe venturing out on my own someday with a new job, I will always be thinking about coming home to you," she insisted. "And I don't need marriage vows for that."

"Then I guess that's what we focus on for now," he found he was okay with that as long as they were together.

Catherine finally cracked a small smile, "I knew you could show me that thoughtful side again," she tried to sniff down another tear, but was unsuccessful.

"What's with all the tears today?" Steve kissed the side of her head as it remained resting against his shoulder. He leaned in further and allowed his nose to gently caress her neck. "At the risk of this leading to sex, do you want to make out in the back of my dad's car?" he whispered, hoping to brighten her spirits.

Her laughter filled the small space. "Always fall back on your strengths," Catherine actually approved this time, thankful for the way he could make her laugh and smile, forget about the difficult things. "For the record, I don't like the singing type of Opera either."

Steve grinned. "Good to know," he replied before allowing his lips and the rest of his body to show Catherine just how much he desired her.

000

"You think it's possible there are women who actually don't want to get married?" Steve asked as he entered Danny's office the following morning.

"Sure," Danny answered automatically, not even looking up from the laptop on his desk. It took a few seconds for his partner's words to sink in. "Whoa, back up a second," Danny pushed away from his desk and stood. "Did you ask Catherine to marry you? Did she turn you down?"

"No," Steve was immediately defensive. "I didn't ask," he finally admitted. "But the topic came up and she seems to be against marriage."

"Seriously? She pays for stuff and doesn't want to get married. Could she be more perfect?" Danny teased.

Steve sighed. "Just because you have issues with marriage," he exited the office and walked toward the surface table.

"I won't deny that," Danny remarked as he followed his partner. "At least for me it turned out badly," he relented a little. "Look, I know I've been all wishy-washy on the marriage topic lately, but I gave you that book, right? And I've told you before that I'm in your corner on this if it's what you really want. What you and Catherine have is the real deal. I believe that."

That got a small smile from Steve. He remembered his buddy Freddie saying almost exactly the same thing to him just before they'd dropped in to North Korea. "Thank you, Danny," his words were sincere this time. "Also, Catherine wanted me to invite you and Grace over for Thanksgiving."

"Very nice, we accept," Danny didn't hesitate. "I have Grace until about six that night. Plenty time for turkey and pie."

Steve nodded, "And hopefully my mother won't have ruined the whole day by the time we cut in to the pie."

Danny tried to gauge the look on his friend's face. "Doris is coming for Thanksgiving?"

"Rethinking your acceptance now, aren't you?" Steve sighed, not blaming the man for being uncertain of a family meal with his mother. "Catherine's parents can't make it so she wants to invite mom and Mary."

"And you're cool with that?" Danny wondered.

"I don't know," another sigh escaped Steve. "I called Mary and invited them, but…" he shrugged, not sure what he'd do with a normal family. "I know we all managed to have Christmas last year without too much trouble. But that was before I knew some of the stuff I know now about my mother. I'm just so sick of the lies, Danny," the words were barely out when Steve glanced over at his friend again. "Do not look at me like that," he warned.

"Oh, so you are planning to tell Catherine about the pictures and the person stalking her?"

"I've tried, but…"

With his hands held up, Danny shook off any excuse that might be forthcoming from his friend. "Unless the next words out of your mouth are about telling Catherine the truth, you're getting the look," he glared, though not-so-menacingly. More disapproving than anything. "Are the pictures still hidden in your sock drawer?"

"They are," Steve replied, fiddling with the computer without really trying to research anything. "It's rare that either one of us wears socks so it seemed the safest place."

"Pot, kettle," Danny mumbled.

Steve's eyes narrowed, not sure if he'd heard right. "Excuse me?"

"I get that you're freaked out about this picture thing. I don't blame you for being worried. I'm worried, too. But do you remember Catherine being upset with you last month over the much smaller issue of you having HPD watch her house without telling her? And then there's the matter of how pissed off at Catherine you got for not telling you about that Mangosta guy that was after Doris," Danny reminded him.

"But I got over that. Very quickly if I recall," Steve replied, clearly trying to prove the two instances were nothing alike. "Mainly because I know how my mother has a way of getting people to do stuff for her. Doris is rather intimidating, in case you hadn't noticed. She got me to help her break in to a high-rise and steal a damn microfiche for her, Danny." His head shook. "You're right. I'm a hypocrite," Steve realized. "And a liar. By not telling Catherine what's going on, I'm lying to her."

"Right. So I think I'll bring pie and my Kevlar vest to Thanksgiving dinner at your place. Just to cover all the bases," Danny concluded.

He knew his friend was mostly joking, but that didn't help calm him much. "Danny, I just don't want to freak her out again if all this turns out to be nothing," Steve breathed out. "It could be someone after me and just using her. Those first pictures of her and Billy could've been to make me jealous. They're all sent to me," he pointed out. Steve's chest tightened with more fear as all of those thoughts flooded his mind.

"Could be," Danny agreed.

"I want her to know I trust her, Danny, because I do," Steve added. "And by not telling her about the pictures… it means I know she can take care of herself, right?"

Danny shrugged. "You do make a compelling argument. But are _you_ convinced?"

Steve sighed. "What other woman would listen to my story about how twelve-year-old-me thought his bed was made out of bullet casings, and not run for the hills?"

"Not many," Danny readily agreed. "Probably only Catherine."

The front HQ door opened and Chin entered. He headed straight for them. "Chin, Thanksgiving at the McGarrett's, what do you say?" Steve offered.

"Oh, well…" the man paused, looking a little sorry for the words about to escape. "I kind of already made other plans with Leilani," Chin revealed.

"Nice," Danny approved.

Chin was momentarily flustered by the compliment. "Not just us. Other friends of hers will be there," he quickly stated.

"Because the two of you are just friends," Danny played along, wondering why both of his co-workers were so dense when it came to dealing with women and admitting their feelings.

"Yes," Chin nodded. He turned to Steve, "Please thank Catherine for the invitation."

"I invited you," Steve replied. The dubious looks on both their faces got him to shrug, "Okay, it was Catherine's idea. We got a case?"

"No," Chin replied. "But I was just at HPD turning in the final paperwork on that robbery-turned-murder from last week, and I learned something you're not going to like," Chin gave them fare warning before he spit it out. "I found out that Wo Fat is being extradited to China next month," he revealed.

Danny's eyes went wide. "Are you joking?"

"I wish I was," Chin responded. "He's one of our country's biggest national security threats, which also makes him one of our country's largest bargaining chip. And apparently the CIA authorized and signed off on an agreement with Chinese officials yesterday to release him in exchange for some source of information. They claim Wo Fat will remain a prisoner and be transferred to a secure facility in Shanghai."

Steve was still in a state of disbelief. "What the hell could they give us that would be worth Wo Fat's release?"

"CIA won't disclose that information," Chin relayed.

"Of course they won't," Steve growled, instantly wondering if his mother knew anything about the agreement. "This is ridiculous. If they let Wo Fat out of that Super Max in Colorado, if he gains any sort of opportunity to communicate with the outside world he'll have an army built up again in no time. He'll get out of that Chinese prison, Chin. I know he will."

"Not much we can do about it," Danny shrugged.

"We'll see about that," Steve wasn't about to back down so easily.

000

"I can't believe you have a dog," Mary remarked as they walked.

"Catherine's dog," Steve replied even as he smiled at the yellow lab trotting along beside him. They stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn in their favor. The dog turned her head toward the flow of traffic, her tags jingling as she did so. Steve was still amused by the military-like dog tags Catherine had found for Trooper's registration and ID.

His sister rolled her eyes, keenly aware of how he was keeping the dog close. "Whatever, it lives with you. And you don't like dogs," she said.

"Why does everyone think that?" his head shook a little. Trooper tugged at her leash, having seen the light change a second before they were aware of it. Steve let the dog guide them across the busy street. "Dad was allergic, remember?" he pointed out. "That's why we never had any pets."

"Okay," Mary brushed off the issue, not wishing to fight with her big brother, as was often the case between them. "So where are we going?"

He looked down the block and spotted the building with arched windows. "To pick up Catherine at her office," Steve replied. "I thought it might be nice if we all had lunch together, just the three of us," he said as if it were no big deal. He was glad Mary had so easily agreed to join them for Thanksgiving, even arriving early to hang out and help prepare.

Mary grinned. "Sure, sounds good" she nodded, eyeing her brother with more awareness than usual. "But you already have my approval."

"Your what?" Steve glanced her way with a quizzical look.

"Steve, I know you still think of me as your kid sister, but I'm not clueless," the young woman was quick to tell him. "I get that you want me to hang out with Catherine so we can know each other better, because you want my approval," she stated. "It's not really necessary, though. I already like her."

His shoulders relaxed a little, unaware that he'd been so tense. "You do?" he breathed out with relief.

She nodded. "Maybe I don't know her that well," Mary admitted. "But I know you, and I know you wouldn't be serious about any woman if she wasn't pretty amazing. And I know she makes you happy. That's all I really care about, big brother," Mary leaned against him, playfully nudging his side with her shoulder. "So when are you going to ask her to marry you?"

"Jeez, Mar…" Steve was shocked by her candor, but more surprised that she could read him so easily. He was starting to realize his little sister had grown up when he wasn't paying attention. At least somewhat.

"What?" she blatantly teased him, her mouth hanging open to reflect his, "You two have known each other for a long time," Mary pointed out. "And now you live together. You're raising a dog together," she waved a hand at Trooper who's ears perked at the sound of her name. "What's wrong? Nerves, right?"

"No," he tried to deny her guess.

Mary saw right through him. "Don't worry, mom said it took dad at least three times before he got up the courage to ask her. Must be a McGarrett male thing. Something about not wanting to do anything wrong, so they wait forever to get it right."

"Really?" Steve was more interested in the previous statement his sister had made. "Dad took that long to ask mom?"

Her head bobbed as they arrived outside Catherine's building. "And apparently he dropped the ring twice before he got it on her finger," Mary laughed.

"No way, not dad," Steve opened the door and held it for her.

"Yes, way," Mary insisted as they walked to the elevator.

Steve mulled over the thought of his dad being nervous about anything. He'd always seemed like the bravest man Steve had ever known. The ride up was quiet, but Trooper grew a little agitated as they exited on the top floor and entered the private security office. Steve guided the dog and his sister to Catherine's office but didn't find her there. Trooper tugged at her leash and Steve followed the dog to the tech room he'd been in once a few weeks ago. He knocked and waited.

Catherine opened the door and looked surprised to see him. She gave him a quick kiss before realizing who he had along for company. "Why did you bring her here?" she asked.

"Mary?" Steve's brow made a deep V, worried about her uncharacteristically rude reaction.

"No, no… not Mary," Catherine slapped his shoulder and glared at him. She then focused on his sister and smiled. "Hi, Mary."

"Hey," the younger woman waved, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"I apologize for your insensitive brother's comment. I meant Trooper," Catherine spoke softer, glancing over her shoulder toward Billy's office. "The last time I had her here she growled at Billy for about two hours. I finally had to take her and my work home with me," she explained as she gave the dog a loving pat, still happy to see her.

"Billy is the ex, right?" Mary asked. She watched Steve and Catherine both nod. Mary bent down and patted the dog affectionately. "What a good girl you are, Trooper," she praised the dog for her obvious dislike of Billy.

With barely contained delight, Steve asked Catherine to join them for lunch and the three of them ended up at Kamekona's shrimp truck about fifteen minutes later. Trooper lay curled up in a shady spot by the picnic table where Catherine sat across from Mary. The two of them waited as Steve ordered their food. "So you're living with Steve now?" Mary inquired.

"Yes," Catherine bit her lip, feeling like she was being judged. "But I hope you know there'll always be room for you at the house, Mary."

"Thanks," Mary slowly sipped her soda. "I noticed you changed some stuff," she added. "You got rid of those red and white curtains in the kitchen and some other little things."

A head nod from Catherine was followed up with a worried look. "I'm sorry. I know it must be weird for you," Catherine acknowledged. "You grew up there and now things are different than what you remember."

"Oh, no," Mary chuckled, "I didn't mention that stuff because I was upset. I think it's good," she revealed. "I'll always have my memories of growing up there. But after my mom died, or… well, you know the whole saga of how she abandoned us," Mary sighed, clearly still not over that either. "My dad kept the house the same as when she was there, kind of like a shrine. When dad died Steve did the same thing. So it's good you're there. The house needs some new life in it. It needs to be a home again," Mary insisted.

Catherine smiled, happy to hear those words. "It feels like the first real home I've ever had," she confessed. A quick look over her shoulder let Catherine know they still had a few more moments alone. "So… is Doris, um… is your mom going to be here tomorrow for Thanksgiving?"

Mary wore a confused look as she shrugged. "I asked her to be, but I'm not so sure."

000

Steve had his hand in the turkey when the doorbell rang. "Hey, ladies!" he called out to Catherine and his sister. "A little busy here!"

The doorbell rang several more times before Steve remembered that both of them had run to the store for last minute items, more potatoes, milk and whip cream. When the bell rang several more times he called out for the person to be patient. Steve removed his hand and washed stuffing off it before he made it to the door. "I swear, Danny, you're worse than a kid ringing that bell repeatedly and…" he stopped when he noticed it wasn't Danny on his doorstep. "Mom?"

Doris glanced at the navy blue apron he was wearing with little stars on it. "That's cute."

"It's Catherine's. What are you doing here?" he asked, still holding the door open but not moving aside to let her in.

"Pretty sure I was invited," she replied. "I thought it would be polite to ring the bell since I'm no longer welcome here without an invitation."

He sighed, not in the mood for her guilt trips. "You're here because Catherine wanted you here. Please don't make a scene today, for Mary and Catherine's sack," he practically begged. When she nodded, he finally stepped aside and allowed her entrance.

"I need to finish stuffing the turkey and get it in the oven," Steve edged toward the kitchen. "Just try not to…" he shook his head and left her. In the kitchen Steve felt a little bad for the rude way he'd treated her. The poor turkey seemed to take the brunt of his irritated mood as he roughly filled it with stuffing, covered it with foil and managed to get it in the oven without mishap. He found her snooping around his dad's desk when he exited the kitchen.

She leaned against the desk, a file folder in her left hand. "Your dad always prepared the turkey," Doris recalled.

"Keeping the tradition alive," Steve said, recalling fond Thanksgivings spent helping his father. "I remember he'd always get me to help him stuff the turkey in the morning before the first football game started. We'd usually manage to get our task done just in time to watch the game," Steve recalled. "I wasn't sure you'd show today," he honestly conveyed.

"Mary asked me to be here," Doris shrugged. "I didn't want to disappoint her, or Catherine… or you," Doris finally said. She opened the case file in her hand and stared at the picture she found inside, a small mark of a bird on human flesh.

Steve studied her face as she glanced at the picture. He thought he saw recognition behind her eyes but couldn't be sure. "Have you seen something like that before?"

"Sort of looks familiar," Doris couldn't take her eyes off it. "Is it a tattoo?"

"Branding," Steve stepped forward and turned to another picture. "That mark was found on two dead bodies last month. Case was solved but…"

"Not to your satisfaction," she easily guessed by the tone of his voice. Doris looked at the picture for another few seconds but finally closed the file and tossed it back on the desk. "It reminds me of that soap logo, Dove bar," Doris dismissed. "Why are you so upset with me?"

He scoffed at that comment. His arms crossed over his chest as he stared her down. "Why did you visit Wo Fat in jail when he was still here?" Steve countered with a burning question of his own. "It seems like a simple question to me, yet you keep avoiding it. That's why I'm upset."

"Last year when Wo Fat came to the safe house I finally gave him the information he wanted," Doris revealed. "It's why I didn't shoot him. And it's why I went to visit him in jail, to find out if he'd used the information to figure out what he was looking for."

"What information? Find who, or what?" Steve demanded more answers, but only seemed to get more questions.

Her head shook. "I can't tell you that, Steve."

"Can't? or won't?" he watched her struggle with the answer to that. "You know you're only here today because Catherine wanted you here, and I'm sure Mary will be happy you're here, too. So for their sake I'm going to play nice. I'm going to help fix the bird. I'm going to watch football. I'm going to sit at the table with you and eat a meal with you and pretend that everything is all happy family. But when dinner is done, you're gone."

Doris was stricken by his harsh words. "Steve, you don't mean that."

"Then just tell me," he implored, looking her in the eye. "Why are you protecting Wo Fat?"

"I'm not, I just…" she sighed, sagging against the desk heavily. "I want all of this to be over."

Steve's head shook. "Wo Fat won't let it end," he warned. "He's got the Chinese government on his side helping him get out of the SuperMax in Colorado. And you can pretty much guarantee he's got something planned once he gets back on his home turf," Steve sighed when he noticed a lack of surprise on her face. "You knew he was getting out, didn't you? Of course you did. You know everything. You hold all the answers. But you won't let anyone else in on the secret."

"I won't help you destroy him!" Doris snapped.

"He had dad killed!" Steve shouted back. "He's been trying to kill you for twenty years, mom."

"I know all of that, don't you think…" her head shook as she tried to calm down, hating the way her own son could rile her. Doris felt her resolve begin to crack as she looked her son in the eye. "Every time I see him I see a five-year-old boy standing over his dead father's body and I can't help think… _I_ did that to him," she lamented.

"His father was a monster," Steve replied, his voice a bit calmer.

She nodded. "Yes, but he was still Wo Fat's father," Doris pointed out. "I didn't think anyone else was in the house the night I went after him. They weren't meant to be there, his family. My contacts assured me that his family had left the compound. But when Wo Fat came running into that room in his pajamas," her voice wavered a little. "Steve, he held on to his father's dead body and just stared up at me with this look on his face, this uncomprehending look. Like he was asking me why I would do such a thing. He never said anything, but that's what I saw in his eyes. And that look is what finally got me out of the CIA."

Doris took a quick breath. "I was done," she continued. "I couldn't hurt anyone else's family. No matter what they might've done they were still someone's father or mother, brother or sister. So I left it all behind to build something knew. And I had that for a while, a family. Your father, you and Mary," she fondly recalled. "Until that little boy decided to bring it all back. And I have no one to blame for that but myself. I created him, Steve. I created Wo Fat. I will not be responsible for destroying him any further."

"Well, if you won't clean up your mess, mom… I will," Steve declared.

000

"This is a ton of food," Steve remarked as Catherine placed the last side dish on the table.

Danny rubbed his hands together, practically drooling. "That's the whole point of today," he said to his partner.

Catherine remained standing at the table as she regarded those gathered. The round table had a leaf inserted to accommodate the extra people. Mary was seated to her left, Danny and Grace sat on the opposite side. Then there was Steve to her right at one end of the table and Doris at the other end. Catherine had sensed something was wrong between them the second she and Mary had returned from the store. Now she could see Steve keeping one wary eye on his mother at all times.

"I know we're all hungry so I'll try to be brief," Catherine hated speeches but felt compelled to say something since she'd been the one to gather everyone. "I haven't really celebrated Thanksgiving in a long time," she looked to Steve, drawing strength from the confident smile he flashed her direction. "When I was seven my baby brother died the week before Thanksgiving, and my parents and I never celebrated together after that. I just wanted to say how very thankful I am to have you all in my life to celebrate this day again."

Steve stood and wrapped his arms about her, hugging her for a moment. He pulled back and kissed her cheek. "Let's eat," he declared.

Grace waited for the dishes to be passed around the table, loading her plate with a little of everything. She caught Catherine's eye across the table and smiled. "I didn't know you had a brother," the girl innocently said. "Do you miss him?"

Danny glanced at his daughter. "That's probably not something we should ask, monkey," he spoke softly.

A small smile tugged at Catherine's lips. "It's okay," she assured Danny. "I haven't spoken about Ben since he died, not until this week," she stole a quick glance with Steve and he aimed another reassuring grin her way. "I do miss him. I still think about how different life would've been with him in it."

"Charlie cries a lot sometimes and gets in to everything now, which can be annoying," Grace seemed at ease talking about it. "But he can be real sweet, too. And when he smiles at me it makes me feel… I don't know," she shrugged, suddenly a bit bashful.

"Special," Catherine practically whispered. "He knows you're his big sister," she said with more confidence. "You're very important to him, Grace. Don't ever doubt that."

"Thanks," the girl beamed proudly.

The table grew silent for a few minutes. The turkey was carved by Steve with great care, and eaten by Danny with great gusto.

"Christmas is coming up," Catherine stated the obvious, feeling bad for bringing up her brother's death when they were meant to be celebrating. It seemed a change of subject might be in order. She looked to the only one in the room under the age of twenty. "Is there anything special you want Santa to bring you this year, Grace?" she asked.

The girl shrugged. "Not really," Grace replied. "I kinda wish we could have a white Christmas again, like we had the last time we were in New Jersey."

"I didn't realize you remembered that, monkey," Danny remarked.

Grace nodded. "I wasn't that little when we left," she stated. "I remember you made the funny snowman with the stocking hat and celery for his nose," the girl giggled.

"Aren't snowmen meant to have carrot noses?" Steve asked. "And stovepipe hats?"

"What do you know?" Danny challenged. "You grew up in the land of perpetual sunshine. Have you ever made a snowman in your life? I doubt it," he jeered. "We didn't have any carrots in the house at the time. And who the heck even owns a stovepipe hat?"

Everyone laughed at Danny's comment.

"We had a white Christmas one year," Doris spoke up for the first time. She looked up and eyed her son. "The year you were eight and we went to California to visit your Aunt Deb," she went on. "We took you to Yosemite and there was a ton of snow, first time you two ever saw snow."

"I don't remember that," Mary said.

Doris smiled at her daughter. "You were only two, and we left you at the cabin with you auntie while your dad and I took Steve sledding. We found this rickety old toboggan at the cabin and I figured for sure it would rattle apart on the way down the hill. But it never did, not after nearly a dozen runs." Doris looked to Steve again. "You loved it. That thing got some serious speed, we were zooming down the hill and you were just smiling," she recalled.

"Of course," Danny nodded. "If he was going fast I'm sure he was happy. He drives my car like that, too. He does everything as fast as possible."

"Not everything," Catherine uttered. When the room went silent she looked up to see all adult eyes on her. "Did I just say that out loud?" she glanced over at Steve, felt her cheeks flush, and pretty much wanted to bury her head in the pile of mashed potatoes on her plate.

Steve grinned and mouthed the word, _later_, to her.

000

The two of them were cuddled on the sofa later that evening, full bellies and droopy eyes.

Trooper was curled up beneath the coffee table, snoring softly, having enjoyed many scraps sent her way as she'd roamed the Thanksgiving meal table.

"What is this?" Steve asked as he waved a hand at the TV. "I thought there was more football on." He looked to Catherine.

She smiled, "We got to watch the Cowboys beat the Raiders. Happy Thanksgiving to me," Catherine cheered softly, keeping the TV remote securely hidden from him as a movie began to play on the screen. Danny and Grace had left a half hour ago. And Doris had slipped out unnoticed at some point. "What did you and your mom talk about before Mary and I got home this morning?" Catherine asked. "You seemed kind of upset when we got back."

"Nothing really…" he shook his head, eyes aimed on the ice hockey game playing on the screen. "Gravy thickness, I think. She likes it thinner than I do."

"Steve, you're a horrible liar," Catherine persisted. "I watched the two of you today, sitting at the table but not speaking to each other. She told that sweet story about you snow sledding and you just kept one eye on her all the time like she was about to run off with the mashed potatoes and not return them for twenty years."

"You know how much I like your mashed potatoes," Steve replied without much emotion.

Catherine had been hoping for some small spark of a smile from him after the potato comment. But he was clearly more upset than she'd realized. "Talk to me. How can I help make things right between the two of you? I thought inviting her today would be a start, but…"

"You can't, Catherine," he turned to her with a sigh. "And it's not your job," Steve felt awful that she thought she had to play peacekeeper between him and his mother. It made sense to him now, though, given what he knew about her parent's marriage. He guessed that was a role she knew well. "She won't tell me what's really going on with Wo Fat and I don't want to live with her dancing around the truth anymore. I'm done with her," he declared.

Her heart ached to see him so upset. "I don't think you really mean that. Doris is…"

Mary entered the room, having come from the kitchen. "I think I'm going to head up to bed," the young woman announced.

"No, stay, it's still really early," Catherine offered. "Watch a movie with us," she beckoned Mary over, shifting a little closer to Steve to give his sister room.

"Are you sure?" Mary was a little hesitant as she sat. "I don't want to intrude."

"You're not," Catherine insisted. "Have you ever seen this movie, _The Cutting Edge_?"

"Yes, I love this movie," Mary nodded, settling down when she realized what they were watching.

"Me, too," Catherine said.

"Guess my football is definitely out the window," Steve lamented as he watched two of his favorite women chat about the movie. He couldn't help be happy that they were getting along so well. And part of him wished his mother could partake of that bonding as well. But he swiftly shook her from his thoughts.

"I wanted to try ice skating after I watched this movie," Mary recalled.

"I spent nearly ten years figure skating when I was younger," Catherine said.

"No way, so cool," Mary was impressed.

Seeing the ice hockey bits of the film rapidly make way for some prissy lady figure skating made Steve groan, "Chick flick," he fake-coughed.

Catherine rolled her eyes at his comment. "He's very subtle," she complained to Mary.

"Tell me about it," the younger woman agreed. "Once when I was eight I asked him to play My Little Ponies with me. I even offered to let him play with Twinkle Toes, because she was the blue pony. But Steve ended up tossing her in the ocean rather than just saying he didn't want to play. I never saw Twinkle Toes again."

"That is so mean," Catherine scolded.

Steve scoffed at her comment. "That was about twenty years ago, okay. I was a teenaged boy. I'm pretty sure the statute of limitations has run out on that crime," he stated. "I'm not so sure I like the two of you being friends," he jokingly added.

"What other Steve stories can you tell me about?" Catherine leaned toward Mary, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

"No, no… there will be no more Steve stories, thank you very much," he protested, glaring at Catherine. Steve pulled her close again and focused on the movie. "Doesn't that father guy look a little like Joe White if he was about twenty years younger?"

"Nice distraction technique," Catherine smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. "But yes."

The ringing of Catherine's cell phone interrupted their movie.

"It's Thanksgiving, why is your phone even on?" Steve complained.

"You _never_ turn yours off," she accused, getting up and fetching the cell phone off the coffee table.

Mary and Steve listened to the one-sided conversation for a few minutes before Catherine hung up.

"That was Billy," she revealed. Trooper barked upon hearing the man's name. "He's taken a case tonight and needs my help," Catherine sighed. "It's an assignment to provide private security detail for Mike Flay's two daughters who want to do some late-night Black Friday shopping."

"Mike Flay?" Steve sat up, leaning forward as Catherine stood in front of him. "As in, the lead singer of the hit rock band, Naughty Nahacky?" he looked up at her and received an affirmative nod. "He's a legend. Naughty Nahacky was pretty much the greatest local indie rock band from the early nineties."

"I didn't know that, but Billy says he runs a multi-million dollar recording label," Catherine explained. "And he has daughters, seventeen and sixteen, that are apparently legendary as well. Apparently they're known for getting in to trouble easily. Which is why Flay hired Billy and I to take them shopping."

Steve sat back against the sofa again. "Mike Flay has teenaged daughters? Now I feel old."

Catherine smiled and bent down to kiss Steve, whispering in his ear. "Stay and watch the movie with your sister, old man. She'll appreciate it."

He kissed her on the lips and nodded. "Be safe."

000

"Well, this is fun," Catherine commented as she and Billy stood behind their two charges in a dismally long line.

Billy smiled. "I know, and I'm sorry I ruined your Thanksgiving night. But it's a good assignment, easy. And it could potentially get word of mouth going for us. Unfortunately we need all these little jobs to get us the bigger jobs."

Catherine nodded, "Understood," she agreed. The teenaged girls in front of them were preoccupied with their cell phones and flirting with any man under the age of forty. "So, how are you and An doing?" Catherine tried to change the subject. Billy had been pretty mellow the last few weeks, nose to the grindstone at work, not very chatty. Catherine hadn't noticed any further odd behavior from him, which she was thankful of. She figured it had to do with the woman in his life. "You don't mention her much. Are you still seeing each other?"

"Sort of, I guess," Billy shrugged as they moved a few feet closer to the store's entrance.

"That didn't sound convincing at all," Catherine said as she turned to look at her friend. "What gives?"

He sighed, head shaking slightly. "She travels a lot for her job so it makes things a little complicated," Billy answered.

"Been there," she sympathized, very glad that she and Steve were finally living in the same time-zone on a permanent basis.

"She's smart, sexy…" he went on, clearly frustrated by something else. "But…" Billy sighed again. "I don't know. She just doesn't have something. She doesn't laugh very much. That's weird isn't it? I find it weird." Harrington looked Catherine in the eye. "You, you're always smiling," he observed. "You're a happy person." Billy rolled his shoulders in a frustrated manner. "How do you know if someone is the one? You and I both seemed to know we weren't…"

Thoughts of Steve made her smile again. "When its right you just know," she offered. "You want to be with them, watch movies you don't like together just to spend time with them. You want to change your life for them, uproot yourself. And you can't imagine not coming home to them," Catherine concluded.

One of the girls turned around, the older of the two, long chestnut hair draped over one shoulder. "We're so done here," Molly Flay declared as they stepped out of line and motioned for their bodyguards to do the same. "This crowd is lame and I already got the iPad I wanted for my BFF Liz…"

"Great, we'll take you home then," Catherine declared, knowing their father could've bought them a hundred iPads without needing a fifty dollar Black Friday discount.

"No way," Molly shook her head and glared at Catherine. "We don't want to go home. If we go home now daddy will make a huge deal about how we only stayed out for a few hours, and he won't let us do this again. Besides," she cozied up to Billy's side and batted her eyelashes. "I have to buy you something for all your help, handsome."

Billy cleared his throat and stood up straighter. "This is a job I was hired for. Your father is paying me," Harrington declared.

"I could pay you more," Molly offered in a sultry tone.

"Okay," Catherine physically stepped between Molly and Billy, prying the girl's hands off his forearm. "Completely inappropriate behavior," she glared at the teenager.

"What are you, my mother?" the seventeen year old scoffed.

"No, thank goodness," Catherine replied, mostly under her breath. "We'll take you wherever else it is you want to go. Let's just try to remember that you're an assignment for us. We are not here for your amusement or entertainment. This is a professional job for us. Are we clear?"

Molly wore a defiant look, but her sister whispered something in her ear. "Sure. We're used to just being an assignment for our bodyguards," Molly finally shrugged.

Catherine looked to Billy with narrowed eyes. "I'm gonna punch her," she watched his head shake. "Can I at least slap her?"

"I'll go get the car," Billy said, making a quick retreat from the scene.

"Wimp," Catherine said to him, smiling as she watched him hurriedly cross the parking lot.

The seventeen year old stood on the curb with her arms folded across her chest. "You just want Mr. Hunky for yourself, right?" Molly turned on Catherine again when Billy was out of sight. "I'm sure you must have trouble getting a guy with that attitude of yours," she quipped.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I have a boyfriend that I live with," Catherine did her best to keep a civil tone.

"Do they still call them boyfriends at your age?" Molly laughed.

"Molly, stop it," the younger girl, Wendy, actually looked mortified by her sister's actions.

A flash of light caught Catherine's attention, thankfully stopping her thoughts of strangling the annoying teenager. Catherine looked up and scanned the area. There were a ton of people around, most of them still in the line they'd left a few minutes ago. Another bright flash caused her to blink. Finally she spotted a man across the parking lot with a large DSLR camera in his hands. "What the heck does he think he's doing?" she stepped off the curb. "He's not from a newspaper."

"He's just typical Paparazzi," Wendy said with an unconcerned shrug. "They follow us around a lot. It's not a big deal."

Catherine looked to both girls and could see they weren't happy about the man continuously taking their picture. Even Molly had her head down, hiding her face from the camera's view angle. And even though Catherine was pretty well exasperated by the girls' behavior so far, she respected their right to privacy. She set off across the parking lot, stalking toward the man, right hand lightly brushing against the gun strapped to her side.

"What are you doing?" Molly asked as she and her sister followed Catherine. "Don't talk to him, you'll just make it worse," she warned.

Not heeding the girl's warning, Catherine walked right up to the man. He was about six feet tall with messy dark hair and built solid. "I'd like you to stop following these girls," Catherine was straight forward with her request. "What you do is just rude."

"Yeah, whatever, lady," he held his camera up again and began to snap close-ups of the girls and their bodyguard.

"Pretty sure you didn't hear me just now," Catherine grabbed the wrist that held his camera and twisted it backwards without a second thought. Her movement was so swift that the man bent over in pain and dropped the camera. "Leave us alone," she insisted, walking away.

He waited until her back was turned to strike back, but Catherine anticipated his move. She leaned forward as he came at her, grabbed his arm and used his forward motion against him, flipping him over her back. The man landed on his butt and his head hit the ground with an echoing thud. "Damn, lady," he groaned. "You're crazy."

She picked up his camera, pulled out the digital card and crushed it beneath her shoe. "We won't see you around again, will we?"

The man sat up with some difficulty. "No," he croaked, rubbing his sore head.

"Good," Catherine smiled as she directed the girls back toward the curb.

"Whoa," Wendy stared at the woman for a moment. "What did you just do? None of our bodyguards do stuff like that. They just let the stupid guys take our picture."

"It seemed like you two were bothered by it, so it bothered me," Catherine shrugged.

Molly tried to remain aloof but she couldn't. "Can you teach us that stuff?" she finally asked. "Those ninja moves?"

"Yeah, that was completely bad-ass," Wendy agreed.

Catherine glared at the young woman for her language. "Just basic self-defense stuff," she said, not thinking she'd done anything significant. But as she eyed the girls she could finally tell that she'd earned their respect. That made her smile a little. "Sure, I can teach you."

"Awesome," Wendy grinned as Billy pulled to the curb to pick them up.

They piled in, the girls both chattering quickly, telling Billy what had happened. He drove them to the next store on their list and they all stood in line again for hours. The process was repeated a few more times until Billy and Catherine finally dropped the girls at home around nine-thirty the following morning. Harrington drove Catherine back to their office building where she'd left her car parked on the street. The sun was up and folks were already starting the new day.

"You really impressed them," Billy said.

She remained in his car for a moment, hoping she was awake enough to drive home. "I think they just need someone to care," Catherine shrugged.

He nodded. "You're pretty amazing, Catherine."

Those words caused Catherine to feel a little uncomfortable but she smiled softly, not wanting to be rude. She wasn't sure if he'd taken her smile the wrong way or what, but in the blink of an eye he was leaning toward her, hand at the back of her neck. "Billy, no…" she pushed him away, her heart racing to realize he'd been about to kiss her. "What do you think… why would you even try that?" Catherine ran both hands over her face, hoping she hadn't given him any sort of sign that she'd been willing.

"I'm sorry," his head shook. "I… that was," Billy sighed regretfully. "You are amazing, Catherine. And I'm an idiot," he concluded.

"I need to go," she exited the car and walked down the sidewalk to her vehicle in a bit of a daze.

000

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open to see Steve lying beside her on top of the bed covers. "Hmm… what time is it?" she asked, yawning and stretching her arms above her head.

"1830," he let her know. "What time did you get home?"

"Not until about ten this morning," Catherine reached out and let her fingers caress his jawline. "Molly and Wendy took us out for breakfast. They're actually very sweet when you dig beneath their protective layers. Those girls lost their mother when they were eight and nine, then went on tour with their father for five years before he finally settled down and started his recording business. Heck of a life for them," she sympathized. "You were gone when I got home so I took a shower and fell into bed with Trooper. Where'd you go?"

"Dropped Mary at the airport, stopped by HQ briefly and then did some holiday shopping with Danny," he reported. "We figured out the perfect gift for Grace and went to at least a dozen different stores to find everything we'll need for it. I think she'll be happy."

Catherine smiled, loving how much he cared for the girl who called him uncle. "You're really sweet with Grace, especially the way you and she played with Trooper yesterday."

"Yeah, well…" he shrugged. "It's good practice, right?"

"Practice for what?" she sat up, adjusting her disheveled t-shirt.

"You know, in case we ever…" Steve stalled, looking her in the eye. "In case Mary ever has kids, which will hopefully not be for many years."

She nodded. "What did you buy me today?" Catherine asked.

"Nothing," he kissed her on the lips, wondering if she was really that clueless about his kid comment, or if she was just dodging the issue.

"Way to hurt a girl's feelings," she pouted.

"I got you a few things, small things," Steve revealed. "I have something else planned for your main Christmas present."

Her eyes widened, "Such as?"

He chuckled. "I never realized you were a snoop. Don't you like surprises?"

"No," Catherine was honest. "I like to know about everything that happens before it happens, that way I can be prepared. Didn't you know that's why I decided to specialize in intelligence work? I get to know all the secrets first. And you do remember the story about me sneaking downstairs to see my gifts on Christmas Eve and finding Cowboy," she once again reminded him of that story. "Afraid I'm still the same girl who snuck down every Christmas Eve to see her presents before Christmas morning."

Steve shook his head. "Not telling you," he maintained.

"I have special means of torture that can get you to talk," Catherine tackled him to the bed and straddled him, her palms pressed against his chest.

"Nope," he easily sat up and shifted her to his lap. "I'm hungry. Shopping is very tiring and I could devour every bit of leftovers in the fridge. We should eat."

Catherine remained seated on his lap, a little disappointed. "Can we eat in bed?" she suggested.

"Shouldn't we eat downstairs at the table like civilized people?" he countered.

She pouted, "Are you going to make me regret I ever taught you that trick?" Catherine watched him laugh, loving the way his eyes squinted when he let himself be carefree. "Steve, I need to tell you something," she suddenly remembered. "Tonight… I mean, this morning…"

His eyes connected with hers, worry creeping in as she stumbled over her words. "What's wrong?" he asked, pushed hair behind both her ears. "Catherine, did something happen when you were with the girls that upset you?" Steve wondered.

"No, well… there was that stupid photographer taking pictures of us, but…"

"What photographer?" he was immediately on alert.

Catherine detailed that part quickly, but dismissed it in favor of the pressing matter. "Billy tried to kiss me," she finally revealed.

With his mind still reeling from her account of the man taking pictures of her, the news about Billy sunk in slowly. "He…" his hands balled in to fists as he pushed Catherine away and got up off the bed, "Unbelievable," Steve stalked across the room.

"Hey," she went to him, hands on either side of his face so he'd look at her. "I stopped him. Nothing happened."

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, hating the way she was trying to reassure him. "I believe you," Steve kissed her softly, protectively. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned down, burying his face against her neck. "I trust you, Catherine," he reiterated the words he'd spoken to her at the cemetery a month ago.

"I'm not going to stop working with Billy," she announced.

With a small step back, Steve looked her in the eye. "Seriously?" he was surprised.

"Steve, if I'd threatened to quit the Navy every time some guy I worked with tried to kiss me I would've quit a hundred times," Catherine sighed.

Unfortunately he knew that was all too true an occurrence in much of the armed forces. "This is a little different, though."

"I know," she agreed, "But I'm not giving up my job because of this. I can handle it."

Steve gazed down at her. He wanted to protest, wanted to scream, wanted to rip Billy's throat out. But he stood there and nodded. "Okay," he supported her.

000

She placed the last two glasses on the top rack and closed the dishwasher.

Catherine had just pushed the button to start the cleaning cycle when she felt his warm arms wrap around her from behind. She relaxed against him, hands resting atop his at her waist. "Are you upset?" her eyes closed for a moment, recalling how quiet he'd been all through dinner.

"I'd be lying if I said no," Steve replied. He was still lying to her about the pictures, though, which was beginning to eat him up inside. "But I don't want to talk about Billy any more tonight. I want to show you something," Steve took her by the hand and guided her back to the dining area.

There were two large boxes, one on the table with tattered red paper covering it and black marker spelling out the words: _Christmas Stuff_.

The second box was much bigger and on the floor in front of the desk. It was green and white with the word, _Tree_, written on it.

"Christmas decorations already?" Catherine couldn't help smile.

"We always used to pull out the Christmas decorations the day after Thanksgiving," he replied, "At least before mom left."

It was hard to hear him struggling to deal with his feelings in regard to Doris. Catherine hated to see him sad or upset in any manner. She did her best to distract him, reaching inside the smaller box and pulling out a camouflage patterned stocking. "I remember this from last year," Catherine grinned, knowing he'd had the Christmas stocking since he was little. "I think I'll hang on to this so I can measure it for the lump of coal I plan to leave you this year," she teased.

He could only smile at her playfulness as he snatched the stocking from her. Steve was confident he had nothing to worry about in regard to Catherine having romantic feelings for Billy. He was certain that wasn't the case. "And here I was in a jolly holiday mood, thinking I might give you one of your Christmas gifts early," he taunted.

Her eyes lit and she sucked in a hopeful breath. "What if I said please?"

"Nah, you don't sound very sincere."

She stepped in front of him, her body pressed firmly against his. Catherine clasped her hands behind his neck and drew him down to her. "Pretty please?" she repeated with an extra plea, her lips almost touching his but keeping him at bay.

"Are you trying to use sexual prowess to get me to cave?" his head shook in mock-disappointment.

"Is it working?" she made no qualms about her methods, closing the miniscule gap between them and giving in to the kiss. Her mouth connected with his, paying particular attention to suckling his lower lip. She effortlessly yielded to his parted lips, deepening the union.

With a ragged breath, Steve broke off the steamy kiss and pointed to something on the table.

Torn between wanting more of what she'd started with him, and curiosity about the gift, Catherine finally reached for the small, shimmery green box.

Steve contentedly watched her open the box and pull the gift free. It dangled on her right index finger from a delicate silver string. "I know from unpacking your stuff that you have zero Christmas decorations. I wanted to get you something special for our Christmas tree."

Catherine almost cried when she saw it, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Did you pay for this one?" she asked.

"All on my own," he boasted.

She held the ornament as if it were made of glass. In fact it was wooden, a bed fashioned out of small rustic twigs. It even had a tiny green and red plaid quilt and a pillow. "This is perfect," Catherine examined it closer and noticed something carved on the small wood frame. "SM+CR 2013," her smile grew brighter. "Thank you for this," she whispered, pressing another tender kiss against his willing lips.

"We should put the tree up," he suggested. "So we can hang your ornament," Steve let her go. "This thing is kinda ancient," he remarked, wrestling the fake tree out of the box. "Don't they make them more realistic looking these days, and with lights already on them?"

"They do," Catherine responded. "But I know this one has been in your family for a while. I like that," she said. "We never had any traditions when I was a kid, and our decorations were usually different every year. It cost too much to keep a bunch of stuff to move from base to base."

Hearing about Catherine's vagabond childhood always made him realize how lucky he was to have had a steady home, at least for a while. "I remember the first Christmas that Mary was really able to understand what was going on. We all took her to see Santa, to sit on his lap," Steve recalled. "But she got scared so I offered to go with her."

Catherine smiled, picturing the scene in her head. "Did you sit on Santa's lap with her?" she asked.

"I did," he wasn't too proud to admit. "Mary was thrilled once she saw me do it. She jumped up on Santa's lap and starting babbling about the My Little Pony farm she wanted."

Listening to his childhood memories was an even better gift than the ornament. She felt honored by the way he was opening up more. "Need some help?" she eyed the tree.

"Yeah, if you could bring the middle section over," Steve hefted the largest piece out of the box, the bottom section. He positioned it in the corner near the back window.

Trooper trotted over and started sniffing inside the box. "Trooper, no," Catherine said, holding the tree higher. "This isn't a toy. Go lay down, girl," she instructed.

The dog was too interested in the green plastic branches to obey, thinking they might be used for a game of catch. Trooper got excited and pounced on Catherine, causing the tree to slip from her grip. "Shit!" she exclaimed, jumping out of the way. Plastic branches collided with the desk and bounced off, but not before taking out half of the items on the desk.

"You okay?" Steve asked as he hustled over.

"Fine," Catherine mumbled as she eyed the dog, unable to be mad at the canine. "I'm sorry about the desk, though," she got down on her knees to start picking everything up.

He got down on the floor with her. "The desk can take it," Steve grinned. They placed pens and pencils back in a metal catch-all bin, and righted some files and papers. As they put everything back in order, Steve scanned the files. There were only a few, but he could tell one was missing. "Is there anything under the desk?" he asked.

Catherine checked but shook her head and stood. "No, we got everything."

Steve searched through the files on the desk again and grumbled beneath his breath, "Damn it, mom."

"Hey," Catherine put a hand to his arm, a little worried. "What's wrong?"

"She took my file," Steve realized. "Dugan and Chase's case file," he sighed. "It was right here on the desk," Steve pointed. "She was looking at that picture like she recognized something and now the file is gone. That's no coincidence. I can't believe she just took off with it."

"Maybe you put it somewhere else and forgot," Catherine lightly suggested.

"No!" he lost his cool for a moment. "I'm sorry," Steve looked her in the eye. "It was here yesterday and now it's gone, Cath. She took it."

"Okay… but why would she do that?" Catherine had to wonder.

"Because she knows something about that dove symbol. I could see it in her eyes," Steve was certain.

She chewed her lip, "I know there's something about that case that has been eating at you for the last month, but do you really think Doris has anything to do with it?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," he was still pissed.

"Then maybe I could help you," Catherine offered, hoping to calm him some more. "I have plenty resources at work, and we can figure this out together."

He pulled her toward him, feeling unworthy of her presence in his life. "You sure? Mom's still not being entirely honest about Wo Fat. And you know he's about to be released. If all of these things are connected somehow…" he still wasn't sure. "I have a really bad feeling things could get ugly."

Catherine nodded, "Ugly doesn't scare me," she assured him.

* * *

**To be continued…**


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Hawaii Five-0_.

**Thank you all so much for your kind reviews. I wish I could post a long part of this story every day for you, unfortunately I can't type or edit that fast. ****Hope you will enjoy this one!**

* * *

**You Owe Me  
****Part 8**

By  
N. J. Borba

* * *

"Wo Fat has been in solitary confinement under a very strict no communication lockdown ever since he arrived in Colorado," Chin revealed.

It was nearly a month since Steve and the team had learned about Wo Fat being released. And the date was quickly approaching. Steve wasn't sure if it was irony or just a cruel joke, but the master criminal was due to be transferred to Chinese authorities on New Year's Day. A new year and a possible new lease on life for a man Steve knew he probably should've killed when he'd had the chance. "So you're saying it's unlikely he's been the one behind sending me the pictures of Catherine?"

"He's not allowed email or phone access, no visitors. There's one night guard and one day guard, each the same since he was transferred there," Chin further explained. "He's in solitary round the clock. So unless he's earwigged one of those two guards then, yes, I'd say it seems unlikely."

"Never underestimate him," Steve grumbled.

"I'll run deeper background checks on both guards," Chin offered.

Danny had been keeping pretty quiet throughout the discussion, but he could see his friend teetering on the edge again. "What else do we know about the pictures?" he tried to be helpful in the wake of Wo Fat being shot down as a likely suspect. "They've been coming by mail the last several weeks, so our guy's being more cautious, not using couriers or hand deliveries. Can't you track the mail?"

Chin sighed regretfully, "I've already tried, but they keep leading back to impossible scenarios. One was postmarked from Japan, another from Russia and one even originated in Norway. It seems completely random."

"But all the pictures have clearly been taken here on Oahu," Steve was irritated. They all were.

"I know. Which means they're probably digital photos that are emailed to someone at those locations to throw us off," Chin maintained a calm position on the matter. "Tracking down where the email originated and ended up would be like… well, the old saying seems best, needle in a haystack," he shrugged. "Unless you want me to search every IP address on Oahu and in all three countries," Chin knew that would be a ridiculous undertaking, but he was willing to take a stab at it. "I wish I had something more for you. Maybe…"

Steve noticed the way his friend hesitated. "Maybe what? If you've got a better idea then spit it out. Because we've just been treading water here for the last few months."

The two other men standing around the surface computer exchanged a quick glance, but it was Danny who spoke. "Chin and I have been thinking maybe we should get Catherine to help us." He could practically see the veins in Steve's neck about to burst. "At least hear us out," Danny pleaded. "She's been able to find out more about this Yakuza boss that's after Adam than we or HPD has. She managed to pick up Doris' trail in Dubai two weeks ago, and followed her all the way to Bangkok."

"She's very good at what she does," Steve couldn't deny that fact, even though he'd missed running into his mother in Bangkok by about twenty-four hours. "But we're not telling her about any of this. I don't think it's the right way to go about things."

"Well, we do," Danny was again the one to speak for himself and Chin.

"So the two of you have discussed this without me?" Steve realized, even before they both nodded. "You've been going behind my back, talking about me."

Chin glanced down at his watch. "I should go. I need to transfer more money for Kono so she and Adam can get to Hong Kong."

After Chin quietly escaped the uncomfortable situation, Danny followed a pissed Steve into his office. "You are wound up way too tight, my friend."

"Yeah, well… maybe I'll try some yoga," Steve snapped, opening and closing one of his desk drawers with a slam. He sat down in his chair with an irritated sigh. Taking his frustration out on Danny wasn't helping. "Catherine just keeps helping me, Danny. She supports me no matter what, no questions asked," Steve said. "She can't fix her family so she's trying to fix my dysfunctional family, and… and I feel like there's nothing I can do to help her," he lamented.

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes until Steve finally revealed what he'd pulled from the drawer. "Here," he handed Danny the envelope. "Read them."

Carefully unfolding the first piece of paper he found in the envelope, Danny wasn't sure what to expect. The note was on plain white copier paper with black computer generated letters, looking like it could've come from any printer around the world. "I know where she lives, in your family home. I know where she works. I've been close enough to slit her throat if I'd wanted, stood right beside her more than once," Danny's whole body tensed and he glanced up at Steve. "Is this from…"

"Came with a set of pictures," Steve confirmed.

"If you tell her, or anyone else, about this note I'll take her from you," Danny concluded reading the first note. He quickly sat it aside in favor of reading the second note. "I don't have to hurt her if you make amends. Your family took something from my family that I want back." The detective felt a chill rush over him as he read, realizing why Steve suspected Wo Fat of being behind the mysterious pictures. But the unfortunate truth was it could be any of a host of people from Steve or Doris or even John McGarret's past.

The last line caused Danny considerable discomfort, "If you tell her about these notes I'll kill her."

With a gulped breath, Danny went for the third note and read it aloud as he'd done with the others. "Change in plan, I'm going to use her in order to get back what your family took from me. When I'm done maybe you can have her again, but she won't be the same woman you knew before. If you try to tell anyone, you'll never see her again."

"What the hell is this," Danny was outraged, waving the current piece of paper in his hands. He stared at Steve for some sort of explanation. "Why didn't you… how long have these been coming with the pictures? Why didn't you show me sooner?"

"The last three weeks. I've been intercepting the mail before you or Chin could get to it," Steve revealed. "They said not to tell anyone."

Danny regarded his partner for a moment, noticing how still he was, silently fuming. "This… these notes are why you won't tell Catherine," he finally understood. But there was more to it than that; a heart shattering panic that Danny could see in his friend's eyes. "Shit. You're terrified." That realization sent a spike of dread through his body. Danny had never seen his friend anything less than completely ready for a fight. "You can't hold all this in, babe. You'll explode."

"I can't tell anyone either," Steve countered. "I shouldn't have told you."

"Chin can try to trace the notes," Danny did his best to focus on the case related aspects. "Find out what sort of paper it is, the ink. Check for fingerprints," he was grasping at straws, knowing they'd be unlikely to get anything from the notes. They were just as common as the photo paper used. "Hey, this has been going on for weeks with no sort of action. Maybe our guy is just a harmless bully, no guts to actually take action," Danny tried to make a case for it being hollow threats. "My advice remains the same, tell Catherine."

"No way, Danny," Steve's head shook. "Even if there's the smallest ounce of truth to the threats in these notes, I won't risk it. I can't."

"Steve…"

"I said no, Danny!" he shouted, pushing away from the desk. Steve walked around and snatched up the notes from his partner. He folded them and stuffed them back into the envelope and dropped it in his drawer. "Just let me deal with this my way," Steve concluded, exiting the office.

The man remaining shook his head, feeling helpless. "But you're not dealing," Danny whispered to the empty room.

000

"Catherine?" he called out, unsettled by the lack of lights on the main floor of the house.

Her car was parked out front, and he knew her cell phone was inside the house since he was still tracing her whereabouts at all times. Steve headed upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. The alarm had been set when he got home, which he took as a good sign. He'd been considering setting up cameras around the yard but hadn't actually followed through with that plan yet. Steve was still anxious after having told Danny about the notes. He pushed the bedroom door open, not knowing what to expect.

His mind kept conjuring up images of her in a pool of blood, throat slashed as one of the notes had threatened.

But when the door opened he found her propped up in bed with her computer on her lap.

"Trooper, look who just got home," Catherine spoke softly to the dog on the bed beside her when Steve appeared. "What do we do when Steve gets home? Do you remember?"

"Kiss me," Steve suggested, relieved to find her huddle with Trooper. As he walked toward them, he reached down to pet the animal, smiling as she wagged her tail excitedly to see him. Steve leaned in and pressed a worried kiss against Catherine's lips. He breathed out slowly, trying not to reveal how upset he was.

She caressed the side of his face. "I'm trying to teach her something, but she hasn't quite grasped it yet." Catherine looked him in the eye and smiled. "Welcome home."

"It's nice to actually see you before midnight," Steve replied as he kicked off his shoes and settled on the bed beside her. "Whatcha up to?" he asked, still trying to shake off his talk with Danny. "Working?" Steve glanced at the laptop.

"Nope, I just finished emailing your sister," Catherine closed the computer and carefully placed it on the floor, sliding it under the bed so Trooper would be less likely to step on it.

"I think Mary talks to you more than me these days," Steve remarked as he rested his head against her shoulder, his arm draped protectively across her belly, holding her close.

Catherine was a little concerned by his rather cuddly behavior but decided not to mention how clingy he'd been lately. "Maybe because I actually email her back," she replied, "Mary's been missing your mom a lot these last few weeks, and I'm not really sure what to tell her about it all. I think you should call and talk to her," Catherine suggested.

He nodded, even though he wasn't sure what to tell his sister either. Steve couldn't really focus on anything but the woman beside him at the moment. His attention shifted to the food on her bedside table. "I see you do eat in bed when I'm not around," he reached across her and picked up an empty plastic package. "Did you eat all of these?"

"Yes," she noticed the dismayed tone he used. "It was a six ounce package of dried mangoes," Catherine noted, "Not like I scarfed a whole box of Twinkies."

"But I just bought these yesterday," he sniffed the package.

"Do you want some sort of monetary compensation?" she eyed him suspiciously. "What's up?"

"No. Nothing," his head shook, realizing he was becoming so paranoid that he was worried about her food being poisoned. Steve took a deep breath and discarded the dried fruit package. "Why does it seem like every time I see you these days you're either eating or sleeping?" he snuggled up to her again.

"What's that supposed to mean," she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Cath, I didn't mean anything by it," he replied. "Although, you're the one who mentioned yesterday that you've gained a few pounds."

"You can go back to work now," Catherine shoved him away in favor of stroking the dog again.

He tried to resume his previous cuddle but she swatted him away a second time. "You're kinda cranky tonight," Steve sat up.

Seeing the genuine look of rejection on his face caused her stomach to ache a little. "I'm sorry," Catherine apologized. "We've both been so busy lately that we only ever get to see each other when we're sleeping or eating," she acknowledged. "And I guess civilian life has packed on a pound or two. All I do lately is spend eighteen hour days sitting in a stuffy van running surveillance, not eating anything until I come home. Unlike on the carrier where all I had to do other than work was exercise," she concluded.

Steve grinned. "You're gorgeous, even if you have gained weight."

Her mouth hung open for a moment, "That was so close to being a save," Catherine turned away from him again.

Not giving up that easily, Steve pulled her back to his side. "You are beautiful, Cath. And I kind of like having a little extra something to hold on to," her glare made him wince. "That was not me saying you're fat," Steve realized too late that it was the wrong word to use. "Okay, _little_ is the most important word you need to remember me saying just now. So… are you going to have any time off next week for Christmas?"

"Smooth," she relented, not really mad at him for anything he'd said, just tired. "Billy leaves Friday to visit his dad. He won't be back until the week after New Year's," Catherine conveyed. "I'll still have some work to do, though."

"But we'll have some alone time?" Steve was hopeful.

"Absolutely," she agreed.

"Good," he felt a little more settled. "Now, what other food do you have stashed up here?" Steve glanced over her shoulder again. "I haven't eaten since breakfast. Can I have some of this…" Steve grasped a plate and examined the half-eaten sandwich on it. "What is this?"

"Bologna, cheese and strawberry jam," Catherine explained as she snatched it off the plate and took a bite.

"You brought bologna into this house… willingly?" Steve questioned. "You know that stuff is loaded with nitrates and nitrites," his nose crinkled as he did a double take, "Did you just say strawberry jam with bologna and cheese? Are you pregnant?"

"What? No," Catherine's head shook emphatically. "I just can't live on MREs and goji berry energy bars like some people," she playfully accused. "This is…" Catherine looked at the sandwich in her hand. "It's sort of a comfort food thing," she let him know.

"My dad's internal clock would usually be off for a while after a long tour," Catherine continued. "He'd get up in the middle of the night sometimes and make a sandwich. One night I joined him and it was kind of dark in the kitchen. He was making bologna and cheese while I started to make a peanut butter and jelly. But I'd only gotten to the jelly part when my dad accidently took my jelly half and smashed it together with his bologna and cheese half," she explained with a reminiscent smile. "We ended up sharing the sandwich and it was actually kinda good. It became a thing we did together every time he was home. Mom thought we were crazy, but now it always makes me think about my dad."

Steve smiled. "That's sweet," even though the sandwich sounded disgusting he appreciated her precious father-daughter memories.

"Is that even something you would want?" she asked, setting the food aside again.

"Is what something I'd want? You lost me," Steve was confused.

She shrugged, "A baby?"

His pregnant comment resurfaced and Steve's eyes widened a little, "I don't know… maybe."

Catherine swallowed. "You do know I'm on birth control to make sure something like that doesn't happen," she pointed out. Catherine noticed a sort of sad look in his eyes. "Why are you being so weird tonight? You're very cuddly and talking about babies. It's not normal."

Steve sighed. "Is it weird to want marriage and kids? It's not as though either one of us is getting any younger."

"Wow," she was taken aback by his comment. "I think you've covered marriage, kids and me getting old and fat tonight."

"Shoot, Cath… I honestly didn't mean to…" Steve stammered. "Can I go back a few minutes in time?" He shimmied out of bed before she could kick him out with only her glare. Steve stood in the doorway. "I'm going downstairs to get some real food, is there anything you want or need?" he bravely asked.

A silent head shake was the only response Steve received from her as he watched her curl up with Trooper again. He felt a little bad as he shuffled out of the bedroom, but he was thankful to still have all his arms and legs unbroken. Steve returned ten minutes later with a plate in one hand and a bowl in the other. He placed his normal turkey, cheese and lettuce on whole wheat sandwich atop the nightstand then crawled onto the bed and presented the bowl to her.

"What is this?" Catherine asked, eyeing the bowl dubiously.

"Peace offering," Steve replied, "Just a little something to help curb your, uh… crankiness," he cautiously suggested.

She took the bowl and noticed the chocolate ice cream within it. "Think you're so smart, don't you?" Catherine wasted no time licking a small bit of ice cream off the spoon.

"Well, we've only lived together for a few months, Cath, but I think I know you pretty well. And chocolate of any sort always seems to help with your… crankiness."

"You can say PMS," she actually cracked a slight smile, taking a larger bite. "Braun and brains, lethal combination," Catherine remarked reflectively as she watched him devour his sandwich in short order. "You know my mother would be pleased," she still wasn't quite sure what to do with the unexpected topic from earlier. "She'd like nothing more than to see me married with kids, which is kind of strange when you consider she had such a crappy marriage."

Steve sat his empty plate aside and faced her again. "It's not strange that she wants you to be happy, Catherine. That's what good mothers want. And, yes, maybe she only stayed with your father for your sake. But she knew how much you loved him and she didn't want to take that away from you. I don't know if that was right for her, but it was noble. And now she's happy with Ted and a new career. It's okay to be happy and married, to have a family and a job."

"I just want to be sure…" Catherine trailed off as she offered him some of the ice cream, holding the spoon for him. She smiled at the way he licked it off slowly, a slightly mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "I don't ever want our kids to think we hate each other," Catherine added. She immediately noticed a questioning look form on his face. "What?"

"You just said _our kids_," Steve pointed out, but didn't dwell on it. "I know what you mean about being sure," he nodded. "But haven't you ever thought about that sort of thing?"

"Having kids?" she heaped another decent spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and let it melt slowly. "Yeah, I've thought about it before," Catherine revealed. "But I've never been good with kids, at least not the little ones. I relate better to kids like Grace, or Wendy and Molly. Babies are a huge responsibility. They need you all the time and we both work jobs that keep us very busy and are dangerous, sometimes _very_ dangerous. And babies are… they're… you know…" she struggled to find the right word.

"Messy?" Steve offered, not sure what she was having trouble with expressing.

"Fragile," her word was barely louder than a whisper. "They can get hurt even when you think you've done everything right."

His chest tightened upon hearing the underlying sorrow in her voice. Steve immediately realized she was talking about her baby brother. When he felt her head rest against his shoulder, he figured it was a good point to drop the subject. He wasn't really ready for kids either, but it was something he felt needed addressing further at some point. "We caught the guy behind that string of jewelry store robberies," Steve decided a change of topic was in order. "But the stolen goods haven't turned up yet and our guy isn't talking," he sighed, "I hate when cases go unsolved," his thoughts drifted back to the threatening notes. "I hate when things are left dangling."

"I can think of a few things I like that dangle," Catherine remarked with a smile.

"Naughty," he replied. "But I like it," Steve moved in for a kiss.

Catherine's brow arched as she pushed a hand against his chest. "I was thinking about jewelry, necklaces and earrings dangling. You're the one with a dirty mind, mister," she waved her bowl under his nose. "Want another bite?" Catherine held the spoon for him and chuckled as he took the bite. She watched as he swallowed and then moved in closer, coming back for that kiss again. This time she allowed their lips to meet in a sweet, chocolaty caress.

Steve broke away, knowing she wouldn't be in the mood for anything more. And he was perfectly content to resume his cuddling position. "What if we went away for New Years, just you and me alone for a few days?" he suggested.

"You mean like, you would take actual time off from work?" she asked.

"Yes," Steve agreed. "We've never really gone on a vacation together. We could go anywhere you want," he offered.

"How about camping," Catherine proposed.

"Camping? Really?" he eyed her, a little surprised. "I suggested going anywhere and you pick camping?"

She grinned, "I'm a low maintenance type of gal."

"Yes, you certainly are," Steve agreed with appreciation.

"The important part is us being alone for a few days, no work, and no stress." Just the anticipation of it thrilled her.

He nodded. "And I'll pack the food," Steve insisted.

000

Soft wisps of sunlight floated through the window behind their bed.

Catherine felt the warmth of the sun on her cheek, and Steve's warm body pressed against her back. She kept her eyes closed for a while, listening to the sound of his breathing against her ear. "You awake?" Catherine whispered. The past week had seemed relentlessly long as the holiday, and an actual day off, had loomed tauntingly ahead of them.

"No," he replied in a sleepy tone, "It's way too early to be awake on a day off."

She chuckled softly, shifting beneath the covers to turn and face him. A heavy lump at the foot of their bed moved as well, Trooper repositioned herself but remained snuggled up with them. "Merry Christmas, Commander," Catherine said as she kissed along his jawline.

His eyes opened and he rubbed his prickly cheek against her soft one, wrapping his arms about her waist. "Merry Christmas, Lieutenant," Steve uttered before kissing her properly, their lips tangled in a peaceful union.

Pulling back to create a small distance between their mouths, Catherine took a moment to catch her breath. "You know I'm technically not a Lieutenant since I retired," she pointed out.

"Stop," he rolled her onto her back. "You're ruining my Christmas fantasy," Steve kissed her again.

Trooper shifted and scooted herself forward so she was practically on top of them. She gave a soft bark and then licked them both on the face.

"Yeah, yeah… Merry Christmas to you, too, Trooper," Steve turned just in time to get another lick from the excitable animal. He reluctantly let go of Catherine and scratched behind the dog's ear. "Good girl," he spoke tenderly to the animal. The dog beat her tail against the cream colored comforter, growing more excited as Steve praised her.

"Trooper, calm down," Catherine gently ordered the dog, afraid she was about to be tossed from her own bed by the animal. The canine looked at her defiantly. "I don't care if it is Christmas, you're getting off the bed if you don't lie down," she gently warned. Finally the dog settled a little, seeming to understand. She rested her front paws between her human companions. "I think I'm a little jealous of my dog," Catherine remarked, even as Trooper tenderly licked her hand. "The way you stroke her and call her a good girl," she eyed Steve.

He resumed his hold on Catherine, the two of them curling up as close as possible with the dog between them. "Well, I would call you a good girl, but I know better," Steve teased.

"I can be man's best friend, too," Catherine insisted as she leaned forward. Without warning she licked the left side of his face, her tongue moving from the bottom of his chin upward. Catherine panted heavily against his ear as she playfully nipped at it.

"Good god, woman," Steve felt his body react in a manner inappropriate for a man playing a game with his dog. "I swear if you get down on all fours I might have to…" he was rendered speechless when Catherine shifted positions, straddling herself above him on her hands and knees. "Are you trying to kill me?" he gasped.

Catherine felt her breath hitch as she waved a hand at the dog. "Trooper, down," she ordered the animal off their bed. "Go downstairs."

Steve grinned; amused by the way she always commanded the dog to leave the room before they had sex.

He found it enormously endearing.

000

An hour and a half later Steve whispered in Catherine's ear, "Time to wake up."

"Hmm…" her eyelids attempted to open but felt far too heavy for the movement. "Wasn't I just awake? What happened?" she moaned against the pillow.

"What happened? I'm hurt you don't remember," Steve smiled as he regarded her, still sprawled on her belly with eyes closed. He whispered a condensed replay in her ear and watched the satisfied smile that spread across her lips and opened her eyes wide. "You remember," he chuckled.

"So that's why I feel like I might never walk again," Catherine shifted to her side and stretched.

Steve presented a box wrapped in silver filigree paper with a large blue bow. "I hope you can do more than walk, because I still have a surprise for you," he handed her the box.

Catherine took her gift and sat up to open it. She eagerly ripped off the paper but her excited manner stalled when she found a mitten and scarf set inside the package.

"Huh, these are certainly…" she was more than a little bewildered by the odd gift. "They're very pretty, and look hand knit," Catherine did her best to be complimentary as she checked out the items. They were each made of a soft cotton yarn in shades of lavender, teal and navy. The scarf was knitted in a chevron pattern, the mittens were simpler wide stripes of color. "But not really the most useful things for life on Oahu," she tried not to sound ungrateful for the gifts.

"They're for your surprise, later," Steve clarified a little.

Catherine frowned, "So you're telling me I still have to wait for my real present?"

"Yep," he nodded.

"That's cruel, you know that right?" She pulled the mittens on. "Maybe I could go get a fan to sit in front of," she laughed, placing a mitten clad hand on either side of his face. Catherine kissed him, a sweet, quick touch of lips before she sat back again. "Thank you."

He took the scarf out of the box and carefully arranged it over her shoulders and around her neck. "By later I only mean about an hour. We should shower and get dressed and then eat before we leave," he noted. "I'd like to be there about nine."

"Leave?" she questioned. "Where're we going?"

"I told you, it's a surprise," he reminded.

She sat back with a harrumph of breath. "Well… what should I wear?" Catherine wasn't giving up yet on figuring out the mystery.

"Something comfortable and maybe slightly loose, you'll be moving around quite a bit," Steve got out of bed and went to grab clean boxer-briefs from a dresser drawer. "Nothing too tight or restrictive," he lightly warned, headed into the bathroom.

Catherine stood, still wearing her warm weather attire with her satin nightshirt. "Come on, just tell me where the heck you're taking me? Should I be worried?" she pestered him, following him into the bathroom. Her eyes narrowed in thought, still trying to suss out the mystery. "Am I going to get wet? Or dirty? Are we rock climbing? Sky diving? Surfing? Oh, jeez, we're not breaking into a building by crawling through the air vents, are we?"

He laughed out loud at her last comment as he turned on the shower and waited for it to warm up a bit. "You watch too many movies," Steve teased, even though he'd done something similar with his mother. "Next time I need to crawl through air vents you'll be first on my list of partners for the task," he assured her. "You'll like this surprise, trust me," Steve said before stripping down and disappearing behind the shower curtain.

"I do trust you!" she called out over the din of the shower. Catherine looked down at her mittens apprehensively, "I just hate surprises."

000

"I can't believe I let you blindfold me," Catherine said as she heard him open the passenger side door of his truck for her.

"I can't believe you managed to leave it on," Steve responded, taking her by the arm.

She'd dressed in black cotton leggings, a silky baby-blue blouse and ballet flats, all of which he assured her would be fine. Catherine was also wearing her mittens and scarf even though it was nearly eighty degrees out already. She patiently allowed Steve to guide her as the world remained dark behind her blindfold. Catherine heard a door open and the sound of a light switch being thrown. Her heightened sense of hearing even caught the slight hum of fluorescent lighting above them.

"Okay, there's a small step up here," Steve instructed as they continued forward. "And… stop," he finally halted her.

Steve turned her a little so she was facing the right direction, then he finally removed the blindfold. Catherine blinked, slowly regaining her bearings. Her face lit with a smile when she realized where they were. "The Ice Palace?" she glanced around the indoor ice skating arena, noticing it was completely vacant aside from the two of them.

"We have the whole place to ourselves until noon when it will open to the public," Steve explained. "Remember that case I worked a few weeks back, the girl who wandered off from her school and everyone thought she'd been kidnapped? Natalie Granger."

"You and Danny found her at a park a few blocks from her house, she was on a swing," Catherine recalled, "She'd just wandered off. Another reason kids are a handful."

"Her father is the manager here," Steve revealed, dismissing her handful comment. "So I asked if he could arrange this for you," he looked over his shoulder, "And there's one other thing I need to do," Steve disappeared behind a random door for several minutes.

Catherine stood beside the rink trying to remember the last time she'd ice skated, far too long. She was still waiting for Steve when the lights dimmed and then changed color. A soft blue glow filled the expansive space. White and blue snowflake patterned lights danced across the ice, causing the whole place to look like an outdoor winter wonderland. When Steve reappeared, her smile said more than words could. "I wasn't sure you could outdo last Christmas but I stand corrected," Catherine pressed a thankful kiss against his lips.

"And now," he waved a hand at the bank of skates resting on shelves behind them. "You can't let this opportunity go to waste."

She didn't need any coaxing. Catherine slipped on a pair of skates and was out on the ice in less than five minutes. As she first set her blades upon the ice it felt like she'd never left the sport behind. It was so much better than the roller derby experience earlier that year. The motion on the ice was more fluid, her muscles recalling complicated footwork that her head had forgotten. Both feet moved as if they were remembering a long forgotten secret.

Steve leaned against the wall, watching her skate, mesmerized by her movements. She splayed her legs, gliding across the ice as if she were a part of it. When she skated backwards on one leg, the other extended, Steve felt his heart quicken. He'd seen similar moves on the movie he'd watched with Mary Thanksgiving night, but he'd attributed most of it to movie magic. He'd also seen home videos of Catherine skating as a kid, but the reality of watching her was different. She was graceful, elegant.

He'd seen her in combat situations looking nonetheless graceful, but much more dangerous. Steve liked the peacefulness that came over her while skating much better.

Without even realizing it, she'd snuck up on him. "Skate with me," she beckoned.

"Uh, no, this is your gift," his head shook. "And that's actually the one thing Joe White didn't teach us in SEAL training."

She leaned against the barrier wall. "What's that, how to ice skate?"

His head shook again. "Nope, how to fall on your butt gracefully," he replied.

"I can teach you," she offered.

"Skating or falling?" he wondered.

"Both," Catherine shrugged. "You never know when you might end up on a mission with nothing but ice for miles."

At that moment, Steve was certain she could talk him into doing anything.

He found himself looking for the right size skates a moment later. Felt his hands pull off his shoes and tug on the skates, still apprehensive but willing to do anything within his power to keep her happy and smiling. He wobbled out on the ice, grasping the side wall and then clutching tightly to her hands for dear life. Steve slowly pushed away from the wall, feeling a bit like a baby leaning to walk. But as he looked her in the eye and put his safety in her hands, he was actually able to enjoy the time with her.

Catherine kept pace with him, slow and steady, encouraging him to mirror her movements.

"How can you be doing all this backwards?" he asked, still watching her with awe. He'd always had a good sense of balance, but thin blades on ice changed everything.

"It's kinda like yoga actually," Catherine said as she glanced over her shoulder occasionally to be sure they weren't headed toward the wall. "You just have to relax, focus your mind, concentrate," she spoke softly. "And most importantly, you have to trust yourself." She couldn't help chuckle softly as he stumbled along behind her for a few silent minutes. She was positive she'd never seen such an apprehensive look on his face before.

"If you keep laughing at me I'm getting off the ice," he warned.

"I'm not laughing at you," Catherine pulled on a straight face, not wanting to risk him giving up so soon. "It's just nice to see you out of your comfort zone," she admired.

"I think that's just a fancy way of you justifying laughing at me," he remained doubtful of her sincerity.

As they rounded a corner a little faster than she'd planned, Catherine felt his hands slip from hers. She watched helplessly as he lost his footing. "Oh, crap," Catherine cringed, gliding further away from him and unable to stop his inevitable collision with the compact ice.

Steve could see her skating toward him, but he knew she'd never make it in time to halt his fall. His butt connected with the ice and his legs flailed out beneath him.

And, as if that wasn't bad enough, he heard clapping. Steve was ready to glare at Catherine when he turned to see it was actually Danny clapping. "This is perfect," Steve grumbled as he spotted his partner and Grace walking toward the rink.

"Are you okay, Uncle Steve?" Grace asked as she rushed to the wall near where he was. The girl was wearing a scarf and mitten set very similar to Catherine's only her hand knitted items were red and white candy cane stripes, which matched her current attire of red leggings and white shirt.

"At least someone in the Williams family is sympathetic," Steve glared at his partner. "Is it time already?"

"We agreed on ten-thirty, didn't we?" Danny asked, glancing at his watch. "It's thirty-five after," he conveyed.

Catherine skated over and expertly stopped herself before running into Steve, a small shower of ice crystals sparking off her blades. "How you doing down there?" she held her hands out and helped him stand up, feeling horrible they'd gotten separated.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Just a bruised butt to go with my bruised ego," Steve lamented as he swayed.

"Guess I should've taught you the art of stopping before anything else," she realized, guiding him safely back to the rink's entry/exit point.

He nodded, "That would've been nice."

"So what's going on?" Catherine asked, glancing between Steve and Danny for some sort of an explanation.

"Grace's Christmas surprise," Steve whispered in her ear before he sat down to remove his skates.

Danny turned to Catherine. "Steve's plan was for Grace to stay here with you for a while so he and I can set everything up for her surprise. If that's okay with you?" he finally asked, guessing his partner had forgotten to run it by Catherine.

"Danno won't tell me what's going on either," Grace shrugged as she looked to Catherine. "Can I skate with you?"

"I would love that," a quick nod came from Catherine as she took the girl's hand, "Let's find you some skates."

Steve finished getting his shoes on then went to Catherine's side, kissing her cheek. "I'm going to ride with Danny so I'll leave the truck for you," he handed over the keys. "I'll call you when everything is ready, maybe an hour or so. You good with that?"

"Sure," Catherine nodded. "Come on, kiddo," she left Steve behind and motioned for Grace to join her on the ice. They both waved good-bye to the guys as Danny and Steve left the ice arena. "Have you ever done this before?" Catherine asked the girl as Grace held the wall with one hand, looking a little nervous.

"Once when I was five," Grace said. "But mom and dad had to hold my hands."

Catherine flashed an encouraging smile as Grace took her hand. "Well, I'm pretty sure I'll have you skating on your own in no time," she offered as they took off slowly.

"You won't let go like with Uncle Steve, right?" Grace wanted to be sure.

"That was an accident, but I will do my best not to let go of you until you want me to," Catherine nodded. "Now, just keep your ankles locked and push off slowly to start," she instructed. Once Grace was mostly stable on her skates, Catherine taught her how to stop. For nearly an hour Catherine kept hold of the girl's hand, patiently giving her tips on how to skate. When she finally let go of Grace's hand the girl kept going.

"You're doing great," Catherine cheered. "Look at you, you're a natural," she praised.

Grace beamed as she concentrated on each push off. Before too long she was looking ahead rather than down at her feet. "This is really fun," the girl started to get excited.

Catherine skated close to grace. "Maybe you can add this to your list of sports. Cheerleader, softball and ice skating," she was genuinely impressed by how well the girl was skating.

"I'm not so sure I'm going to play softball again next season," Grace revealed as they rounded a corner. She noticed Catherine looking over at her with questioning eyes. "See, there's this this boy in my class, Peter Donovan," she spoke his name with a measure of exasperation. "He says it's weird that I play softball and do cheerleading."

Along with the exasperation, Catherine could see a small spark of interest behind the girl's eyes. "Do you think that's weird?"

"I didn't until he said something," Grace admitted.

"Well, then you should trust your gut feeling," Catherine replied. "It's not weird, Grace. You can do both. I used to figure skate and played softball, track and field, volleyball. You should do what feels right for you and not worry about what others think."

The girl mulled over that advice for a moment. "But what if…" she bit her lip nervously.

It wasn't hard for Catherine to guess what was really going on. "You like this Peter kid, don't you?"

"Sorta," Grace giggled softly.

There was a small longing within Catherine to return to a time when her first interest in a boy had sparked. But in reality she wouldn't trade her life with Steve for any teenaged infatuation scenario. "You should tell Peter that you like cheerleading and playing softball. And if he has a real problem with that then he's probably not the kind of boy you want to hang out with. But my guess is he's just teasing you about liking both."

Grace's nose scrunched a little in confusion. "Why?"

"Because he likes you, too," Catherine concluded.

The girl blushed upon hearing that. They lapped the rink again and Grace smiled as Catherine showed her a few more advanced moves like a simple spin and figure eight. "I hope you have a daughter someday," Grace said as she held Catherine's hand again. "Because she'll think you're way cool like I do," the girl concluded.

Catherine was a little surprised by the sudden comment, but she smiled softly. "Way cool, huh?"

"Yep," Grace nodded.

The ringing of Catherine's cell phone caused them both to leave the ice before they were really ready.

Catherine spoke briefly with Steve and ended the call. "Sounds like your surprise is ready," she let Grace know.

When Catherine parked Steve's truck outside the white picket fence of the McGarrett home a half hour later, she and Grace both gasped at the unbelievable sight before them. Grace pulled on her scarf and mittens again before she giddily leapt out of the truck and rushed through the gate. The girl gaped at the winter wonderland that had been created in the front yard. "This is amazing, Danno!" Grace squealed as she jumped in to Danny's outstretched arms.

"You really like it, monkey?" Danny asked.

"Love it!" she exclaimed.

Steve met Catherine at the gate and put an arm across her shoulders. "Danny and I did a pretty good job, huh?" he asked.

She looked at the scene they'd created. There were at least a dozen white sheets strewn across the lawn. And mounds of cotton balls and cotton stuffing were scattered around the ground and on the bushes, made to look like fallen snow. There was even a five-foot snowman in the center of the yard. He was a plastic lighted Christmas yard art, which fit perfectly with the winter landscape that Steve and Danny had formed. "You did great," Catherine agreed, seeing how excited Grace was to have a white Christmas again.

As they stood there enjoying the peaceful scenery, something shot across the yard and smacked Steve on the side of his face. Catherine tried to stifle a laugh but failed. "Danny, you're a dead man!" Steve warned.

"Is that real snow?" Catherine picked some of it off Steve's shirt collar.

"Kamekona donated a bunch of shave ice," Steve confirmed, pointing to two blue coolers where Danny was standing guard with another heaping snowball formed in his hand. Steve grabbed Catherine by the waist when he saw Danny fling the snowball. He spun Catherine around in front of him.

"Umph!" Catherine exclaimed as the icy ball splattered against the scarf still draped around her neck. She turned and glared at Steve who'd just used her as a human shield. "Speaking of dead men…" she pulled her mittens on and raced toward one of the coolers.

It was all out war after that.

Catherine and Grace quickly created an alliance to gang up on the guys. They snatched one shave ice cooler for themselves and fortified their position up on the porch behind a large bush. They lobbed snowballs at the enemy until Steve snuck up behind them and grabbed Grace. He carried the girl over his shoulder into the middle of the yard by the snowman. "If you don't give up your ice chest, this girl will pay the price," he declared, tickling Grace as she giggled and squirmed against his shoulder.

"Oh, no, he's got my baby!" Danny dramatically cried out. "Please, Catherine. Give yourself up, save by baby girl from the Stevenator," he lamented.

"Don't do it, Aunty Catherine!" Grace called out. "I'll be okay. He can tickle me all he wants, but I won't give in."

Too doubled over with laughter to form a snowball, Catherine called a ceasefire and edged out from her hiding spot. She held her hands up in the air in a show of surrender. "How the heck did winter wonderland turn into the terminator?" she chuckled.

"Sucker!" Steve shouted as he put Grace down and tossed a giant snowball at Catherine's head.

Shaved ice lodged in Catherine's ear and she jumped on one leg to try and displace it.

Danny and Grace followed Steve's lead, hurtling more snowballs at the unprotected former Navy Lieutenant.

"Grace? I can't believe you turned on me," Catherine took the assault, dropping to her knees as the snowballs continued to pelt her. "I thought you were my friend," she lamented, pretending each hit was causing her physical pain. Soon she was on her side, eyes closed. "Trust… no one," Catherine theatrically gasped and then went still.

"What have we done," Grace feigned a remorseful sniffle, rushing to Catherine's side. "I'm so sorry," the girl pretended to cry over her fallen friend. As Grace lay atop her, Catherine's body began to shake a little, unable to stop laughing. "This is a really fun Christmas," Grace declared.

Catherine opened her eyes and smiled at the girl. "You called me Aunty," she realized.

"That's what you are," the girl shrugged.

A moment later they were both pelted with a barrage of snowballs.

000

Catherine sat on their bed and watched him. "How come you haven't asked about your gift?"

The sun had set hours ago, another Christmas day swiftly fading into history. After their shaved ice snowball supply finally ran out, the four of them had eaten lunch together before Danny returned Grace to her mom's house. Steve and Catherine had gladly volunteered to clean up the front yard, after which they'd gone for a swim in the ocean, walked Trooper along the beach for several hours, and then ate a simple candlelit dinner in the backyard.

"I already got everything I wanted and more this Christmas," Steve replied as he removed his shirt and pulled off his white cargo pants.

"But you gave me so much today, the ice skating, the mittens and scarf, and getting to see Grace enjoy her white Christmas. I haven't given you anything," Catherine pointed out.

He regarded her, kneeling on the bed, one of his SEAL t-shirts hitting her mid-thigh. "You being here is gift enough for me," he insisted.

She sighed, trying not to be frustrated with him. "But there's something I want to give you," Catherine tried again.

"Okay," he finally sat down on the edge of the bed and held his hand out. "Gimme," Steve said, thinking maybe she had some package hidden behind her back.

Her head shook. "You have to search for it," she revealed, "You do enjoy a hunt, don't you?"

He was suddenly intrigued, even though he was also exhausted after a long and eventful holiday. "Where is my hunting zone?"

"This room…" Catherine gestured.

Steve immediately knelt down and stuck his head under the bed.

"Kinda cold down there," she reported.

His head raised and he looked her in the eye. "That how you want to play this?" Steve watched her nod. "Alright then," he got serious and stood, wandering around the room in nothing but his black boxer-briefs. Steve inspected her record player in the corner for several seconds.

"Frosty," Catherine shook her head.

He glanced around the room, realizing there weren't many hiding places. Steve went to the closet but nothing seemed out of place there. "Still cold," he heard her voice call to him.

Steve felt a chill as he walked by the dresser, worried she might've hidden something there close to the photographs he still had stashed in the middle sock drawer. Instead he went to the bathroom and began to open the linen cabinet. "You're pretty much in Antarctica there… I said _this_ room," she reminded him.

Standing in the doorway, Steve stared at her. A smile curled his lips as he walked toward her, thinking he finally had her game figured out. "Getting warmer," Catherine grinned.

His hands went to her waist and he pulled her toward him, standing by the bed beside her. "How warm am I now?" he whispered against her lips.

"Rather hot," she confirmed, still keeping up the ruse.

As he kissed a path along her neck and across her shoulder, Steve heard her say, "I can't believe you still haven't found it."

He grinned, laying her down against the bed. Steve glanced at the t-shirt that was now barely covering her. "Pretty sure I know what my gift is," he reached for the bottom hem, his fingers gliding along her thigh. Steve had the garment up around her waist, eagerly eying the satin panties she was wearing.

"Not that," Catherine locked eyes with him again as she took his right hand in hers. She could feel the excitement he was experiencing pressed against her thigh, but there was more than sex on her mind as she placed his palm over her chest. Her hand covered his, both of them resting above her heart. "I love you, Steve," Catherine whispered.

His heart beat rapidly. Those words were the last thing he'd been expecting. "Catherine, I…"

"Other than my parents," she offered him a reprieve, sensing that the words had taken him by surprise. Catherine closed her eyes for a moment as his head dipped and his forehead rested against her shoulder. "The last person I ever said those words to was my baby brother," Catherine revealed. Steve rolled to his side but remained close, hand still above her heart. "I would go to his room every morning before school to play with him. Mostly I'd just make silly faces and he'd smile and laugh at me. He was always happy to see me," she remembered. "And before I left the house to catch the school bus I would wave to him and say… bye-bye, Ben, I love you."

Steve didn't know what to say, so he just listened.

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she continued, "One day I came home after school and there was a med van parked in front of our house. A bunch of soldiers were gathered on the front porch," she took a shaky breath. "I knew most of them. Master-at-Arms Nick Delano was one of my dad's good buddies. He pulled me aside and told me that Ben had died. I sat there on his lap for a long time, waiting until I could get to my mom inside the house. But before that happened, one of the medics walked out with Ben wrapped in his teddy bear blanket. I stood there as they carried him to the van. And I remember saying… bye-bye, Ben, I love you."

She gulped down a sob resting in her throat. "Then I never saw him again. And I've been too afraid to say I love you to anyone else," Catherine confessed. "Which is stupid, right? He was just a baby, and that was twenty-eight years ago."

His head shook. "It's not stupid, Cath," Steve assured her.

Catherine could see he was still struggling with his emotions. "I love you, Steve. Those words are my gift to you," she reaffirmed what she'd said earlier. "But I didn't say them to force a response. I said them because it's how I've felt for a while, and I finally realized I didn't want to risk losing you without ever telling you how I feel," Catherine took a deep breath. "And maybe someday when you're ready…" she smiled.

He buried his head against her shoulder again, "I don't deserve you," Steve whispered.

"Yes you do," Catherine insisted.

000

"Should we recap the last few weeks?" Catherine asked. "What is your most important first move?"

Her two teenaged students were dressed in yoga pants and t-shirts, quietly paying attention as they sat on the large cushy mat that had been positioned along the south wall of Billy and Catherine's office space. The construction of two individual offices, one bathroom, and the tech room hadn't taken up even half of the entire floor plan that their business occupied. So they'd agreed to turn one corner into a training and workout area. And for the last three weeks Catherine had been instructing Molly and Wendy on some self-defense moves.

"I know this one," Wendy raised her hand.

Catherine leaned forward and grasped her ankles, stretching before they began. She chuckled softly at how polite the younger Flay girl often was. She'd come to realize in just a few weeks' time that Wendy only ever got in trouble by blindly following her older sister's antics. "You don't have to raise your hand, Wendy," she repeated the same thing every week.

"The foot stomp and elbow to the ribs combo," Wendy confidently replied.

Molly rolled her eyes. "Ugh, enough with the recap, _mom_… let's learn the good stuff this time. I think three weeks of foot stomping and elbow jabbing is overkill."

It still caused Catherine some conflicting emotions when Molly teasingly referred to her as mom. But she'd come to know the two girls well enough to recognize it was said with affection rather than distain. "Fine, we can move forward. But every week we build on the previous week's lessons, so if you feel confident that you remember everything we did last w…"

"Yeah, okay, go over it again," Molly gave in.

The front office door opened and closed causing Catherine to look over her shoulder. She recognized the dark-haired woman that immediately headed toward Billy's office. "Why don't you two stretch for a sec, I'll be right back," Catherine jumped up and walked across the hardwood floor. She poked her head inside Billy's office. "Can I help you?"

"Catherine, hello," An spun around and greeted her with a small smile. "I was hoping to find Billy here," the woman clutched her handbag and nervously drummed her fingers against the soft brown leather bag.

"Uh," Catherine breathed out. "Billy left the Friday before Christmas to visit his dad in San Francisco."

"Oh, that's right. He told me that," An replied. A moment later her shoulders slumped a little. "No, he didn't actually tell me that. I thought he was still in town. Billy made a date with me for last night, and when he didn't show I tried to call him but he doesn't seem interested in returning my calls," the petite woman sighed. "I don't understand. I know we've had some difficulty finding time for each other, but I thought things were actually going well between us," she shrugged.

Feeling more than a little uncomfortable talking about Billy and An's relationship, Catherine could only shrug. "I'm sorry. I know he's been a little stressed lately, getting this place off its feet and all." She also knew Billy wasn't entirely happy with An. At least that's what he'd told her at Thanksgiving. Although Catherine had to question the validity of his words now that she saw An looking genuinely concerned, and knowing that Billy had been quick to try and kiss her.

An nodded and moved toward the door. "Sorry I bothered you. Maybe you can mention I stopped by when you see Billy again?"

"Sure," Catherine agreed. She waited for the woman to exit the office before she headed back to the mat.

"Who was that?" Molly asked straight away. "And why was she in Billy's office? Is she his girlfriend?" the teenager didn't bother to wait for an answer. "I think she looked a little unhappy. Perfect time for you to move in on Billy," Molly concluded.

Wendy elbowed her sister. "Mol, she has a boyfriend," the younger girl reminded.

"Psh!" the older girl scoffed. "In four weeks has either of us seen this supposed boyfriend of hers?"

"I'm standing right here," Catherine groaned. "An, the woman who was just here, has been dating Billy. And why am I even discussing this with you two?" she shook her head.

Molly laughed as she resumed her stretching. "Come on, why would you not want to hit the amazingly statuesque Billy?"

"Could you be a little less crude?" Catherine implored, hoping to regain some sense of decorum where her self-defense lesson was concerned.

"They'd never work as a couple," Wendy stated. "Catherine and Billy aren't right for each other. Just like that An lady is all wrong for him as well," the girl declared. She caught her sister and Catherine staring at her and she shrugged, "It's a theory of mine."

"Oh, right," Molly sighed. "I almost forgot, Wendy and her opposite hair colors attract theory."

Catherine had mostly gotten used to both of the girls, how they clashed but were still amazingly tight. Molly had a distinct lack of modesty when it came to just about everything. She certainly spoke her mind, even if she clearly had no grasp of what was right or wrong. Wendy was a little less abrupt, quieter, but still had a very strong personality. "Do I even want to ask about this theory?" Catherine humored them.

Molly's head shook vigorously, but Wendy's eyes lit up.

"So, there's the whole saying about how opposites attract," Wendy dove in head first. "I've been studying couples lately, at school as well as in Hollywood. And it seems like the best couples, the ones that actually last, are made up of people with opposing hair colors. Or," she glared at her older sister for a moment. "It also works for eye color, racial backgrounds and height. People of the same height are usually not a good match. Shorter women and taller men always work best."

"That's just nature," Catherine pointed out.

"Can be," Wendy agreed. "But I'm telling you the other things hold true. Billy has brown hair and brown eyes, same as you. Therefore, a bad match," She turned to her sister and smiled, "You also have brown hair and brown eyes, just like me, Mol. Sorry to break it to you, but you and Billy just aren't destined to be."

"Really, Wen?" Molly scoffed. "You know I'm never going to get married. I'm not looking for destiny, just a little fun."

"You're _seventeen_," Catherine pointed out. "He's too old for you."

"Jeez, here you go again with the mom thing," Molly sighed. "Are you sure you don't have kids?"

Catherine sighed, "No, but I do remember what it's like to be your age."

"Please, I bet you were a saint," Molly snapped, "Saint Catherine who'd never try anything with her business partner, hunky Billy. Even if he was blonde she'd probably stay away."

Trying to be more than a bodyguard or teacher to the teenagers, Catherine worked on being someone who the girls could confide in. That task required a lot of patients, though. "Why do you say you're never getting married, Molly?"

"Because marriage completely sucks," the teenager immediately responded. "My mom and dad were seriously messed up, never happy, always arguing. That's why she eventually killed herself. She didn't want to deal with the traveling any more, or his drugs and booze. But he threatened to take full custody of us if she tried to leave him. He was a bastard to her. He's mellowed the last few years, after the rehab and everything, but…"

The pain and anger radiating from the girl caused Catherine to think about her parents. She hated that anyone else had to experience a similar childhood to her own. But it seemed Wendy and Molly had been through far worse. "I know how you feel," Catherine tried to commiserate with the teenager. "My mom never tried to kill herself but she was unhappy with my dad. Watching what she went through made me think I never wanted to get married either."

Molly wrung her hands, hating that Catherine always had a way of getting through her tough shell. "Have you changed your mind?"

"About marriage? I'm not sure," Catherine revealed. "But when you find the right guy sometimes you start to think… what if."

"Have you found the right guy?" Wendy wondered, a little less jaded than her sister when it came to being hopeful about finding love.

A contented smile spread across Catherine's face as she thought about Steve. "Yeah, I have. And he's nothing like Billy. Billy and I work together, that's it. Crossing that line again with him will never happen because I'm very much in love with someone else." It still felt a little strange to her, saying those words, but also very right.

Molly was shocked, but not by the love declaration. "Again?" she questioned.

"What?" Catherine responded.

"You said, crossing that line _again_. You and bodyguard Billy did have something once, didn't you?" Molly realized. "Spill it, girl."

"Spill what?"

The three women turned at the sound of the male voice that had joined them.

Catherine's smile returned when she spotted Steve standing at the edge of the mat with Trooper beside him on her leash. She got up and walked toward them, greeting Steve with a quick kiss. "Is it that late already?" she asked, bending to give Trooper some love.

"I'm early," Steve replied. "I got the truck packed and Trooper was raring to go," he said as the dog barked. "Thought I'd see if you were ready to go a little earlier than we'd planned?"

"I would, but I still have the girls here," she noted.

"Hang on a sec," Molly's mouth hung open as she and Wendy stood and moved to where Catherine and Steve were standing. "Could it be true, the boyfriend really does exist?" She exchanged an approving grin with her younger sister. "And look at his massive…"

"Tattoos," Wendy interjected, hoping to stop her sister from any embarrassing remark. "She likes big tattoos."

"Guess bodyguard Billy is all mine after all," Molly said with delight.

Wendy was more interested in Steve. She ran her sixteen-year-old eyes over his body, but not in an ogling manner. "He's taller than her and has gorgeous blue eyes," Wendy spoke mainly to her sister, but loud enough for Steve and Catherine to hear. "A very good match," the teenager nodded her approval.

Catherine rolled her eyes at both girls' comments. "Pay no attention to them," she directed her remark to Steve. "This is Molly and Wendy," she motioned while making introductions.

"Steve McGarrett," he politely offered a handshake. "Big fan of your dad, Mike Flay," Steve added.

Molly laughed outright as she shook his hand. "Yeah, I know his name. He's my dad."

"Forgive her," Wendy smiled up at Steve. "Thanks, we'll tell him you said so," she shook his hand.

"Are we done for today, ladies?" Catherine asked, "Because there's been a lot more talking going on than self-defense training."

"No!" Molly exclaimed, her focus returning to Catherine. "You promised to finally show us that over-the-back move," she was actually interesting in learning, even though her mouth tended to distract her more often than not. "You know; the thing you did in the parking lot to that photographer guy. I want to know how to do that."

Wendy nodded her agreement. "There's a few boys at school I wouldn't mind trying that one on."

Steve grinned as he remained on the side of the mat, arms crossed. "I could help with demonstrations," Steve offered.

Molly rushed to Steve's side. "I'll be your partner," she offered.

Catherine grabbed Molly by the shoulders and turned her away from Steve. "Steve and Wendy will be partners," she pronounced, chuckling softly when Molly groaned in protest. They waited for Steve to kick off his shoes and join them, leaving Trooper on her own at the mat's edge. The dog was content to lie down and take a nap.

The four of them worked on the move in pairs, but after several tries Catherine grew frustrated with the lack of results. "This isn't working. You know I'm coming at you so you're overcompensating and crouching too low," she told Molly. "It's not about escaping this time, it's about using your attacker's momentum," Catherine tried to explain.

"But I don't want you to land on me," Molly replied, actually trying to learn.

"I have a better idea," Catherine looked to Steve. "You wanna help me break this down for them?" she asked. "Maybe if they see it in slower motion it could help."

"You got it," he nodded. "Where do you want me?"

"Come at me from behind," Catherine instructed.

"I like this plan already," he quipped, winking at her.

She glared an admonishment at him, noticing the way the girls were smiling. Catherine turned her back to Steve and waited for him to strike. Even on the mat she could anticipate his moves, listening intently as his footfalls nearer. Catherine ducked slightly when he came at her full force. She grabbed his arm and flung him over her head. Steve flopped onto his back and stared up at her, a little shocked by the swiftness of her movements. "You know I let you do that, right?" he grinned. "Teaching moment."

"Uh, huh," Catherine gave him a hand up. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," she teased.

Steve and Catherine repeated the move a few more times, finally managing to slow it down. Within a half hour the girls had finally picked up on it, both of them managing to send Steve over their backs with accuracy. "Alright, ladies, that's enough for today," Catherine said when she spotted their driver looming in the office doorway. "I know the two of you are leaving for New York tonight, you should get going."

"New Years at Time's Square again, how boring," Molly said as she grabbed her bag, "Daddy is performing again and of course he's making us tag along."

"At least it's not Finland, or some other distant place where's he's oddly famous," Wendy shrugged.

"That must be hard, traveling all the time," Catherine sympathized.

Molly grinned, "I deal with the hardship by shopping a lot," she joked. "What do you and Mr. Tall, dark and muscled have planned for New Years?"

"Steve, Trooper and I are going camping," Catherine revealed.

"Camping? Wow, Saint Catherine, you really are a wild one," Molly teased. The girl walked toward the door with her shoulder pressed against Catherine's. Molly watched Steve take the dog by her leash. "You didn't tell me you had a whole family," the teenager remarked while smiling at the yellow Lab. "I'm sorry about all the shit I gave you over Billy…" the girl cringed. "And sorry about just using the S-word, _mom_," she promptly apologized. "See you in two weeks when we get back, right?"

"Yep, I'll text you to make sure what time works best," Catherine waved the girls off.

"Those two really are a handful," Steve remarked when the girls were safely out of hearing range. "But I can tell they appreciate the attention you show them," he smiled as he let his forearms rest against her shoulders. "You ready?" he asked.

"Um…" she ducked under his right arm. "Give me a minute," Catherine dashed to her office and grabbed her cell phone off the desk. She glanced out her door and saw Steve teasing Trooper with a rolled up piece of paper. Catherine pulled up her contacts on the phone and dialed Billy's cell. The line went straight to voicemail.

"Hi, Billy, it's Catherine. I just wanted to let you know that An stopped by the office today and she seemed upset. I know it's probably none of my business but maybe you should call her. Okay… I'll, uh, be out of the office until Monday," she disconnected.

"Now are you ready?" Steve asked from her doorway.

Catherine turned around, slightly startled, "Yeah," she grabbed her purse.

"How's Billy?" he asked as she locked up the office.

"You overheard some of that," her words weren't a question. "Steve, I'm just…"

"Worried about him," he supplied as they headed down the hallway. "I know, you've mentioned that a time or two before." Steve found that he wasn't really upset. He knew that trying to fight her on the matter any further would be futile. Steve also knew that if the situation were reversed he'd be thankful to have such a loyal, concerned friend as Catherine in his corner. "You do what you need for Billy, okay," he offered. "Be his friend."

She smiled and took his hand as they stepped onto the elevator. "Thank you."

000

"Do you know any of their names?" Catherine asked, lying on her back and staring up at the night sky through the tent's mesh-domed roof.

The tent was just big enough for their queen sized air mattress and about a two foot area near the door for Trooper to curl up beside their backpacks. Their first day of vacation had been spent covering a leisurely few miles of wooded terrain before setting up a simplistic camp. The slightly remote trails allowed for camping but there were no official sites, and no fires could be lit. But rain wasn't predicted, and cuddled next to each other atop their conjoined sleeping bags meant they didn't need a fire's warmth.

The sky was an inky black canopy above them, dotted by tiny pinpricks of light.

"The stars?" Steve shook his head a little as he lay beside her. "Not really. I can usually find the big dipper, but…" he strained his eyes for a moment. "I don't see it from this vantage point. It's a good one to know because it'll point you to the North Star. And if you know which way is north you can usually find your way around. Just a little survival tip," he turned to her. "Do you know any of the stars by name?" he asked.

"No," Catherine replied as she rolled over and propped herself up on one arm to face him. "But I remember every time we moved I would look up at the stars on my first night in the new place and think that not everything was all that different," she recalled. "That was always a comfort to me."

He smiled, picturing her as a kid gazing up at the stars. "Mary sent me letters wherever I was stationed," Steve recalled. "Once she wrote something about how if we both looked up at the stars at night then we wouldn't be so far apart. I think I ruined it for her when I pointed out that the stars where she was were different than the ones where I was."

"Always so literal," Catherine remarked. She was about to lay her head on his shoulder when she noticed the slightly repulsed look on his face. "What? You know it's the truth," she defended. "You do ruin things sometimes with your inability to suspend belief."

"I wasn't taking offense to your comment, although now…" he continued to make a disgusted face, nose crinkled. "Cath, I know we're living together and you feel comfortable doing a lot of things that maybe you didn't when we were just a casual thing, but… farting in bed?"

"Wha…" Catherine's eyes went wide, but she suddenly sniffed out something fowl. Her nose instantly upturned as well. "No way are you blaming that on me, sailor. This is obviously a case of you smelt it, you dealt it," she declared.

"Very mature," he rolled his eyes, fanning the air with one hand.

Catherine glared at him. "It wasn't me," she maintained.

"Well, it wasn't me either," Steve said just as the smell grew stronger again. The two of them stared at each other for a moment and then turned their eyes toward the dog. Trooper lifted her head and whined softly, looking rather guilty. "Jeez, Catherine… you fed her some of our muffins on the hike up here, didn't you?" he immediately accused. "I specifically packed food and even doggie treats for her in my backpack."

"But she likes muffins," Catherine held her nose and attempted to breathe through her mouth, thankful the top of their tent was ventilated. "You see," she rested her head on his shoulder once the majority of the smell had faded. "This is proof I wouldn't be a good mother," she couldn't help notice that his shoulder felt rather tense beneath her head. "I let her sleep in bed with us, I feed her whatever she wants, and she growls at people."

He smiled, leaning his head against hers. "In Trooper's defense, she only growls at Billy. You can't really blame her for that," Steve noticed the not-so-please look from Catherine and he regretted his words, still trying not to disparage the Billy issue. "She's learned a lot from you," he tried to smooth things over. "She knows a bunch of commands, some I'm sure I don't even know about," he guessed. "Most important, she's learned about love from you. You love her and she returns that. You've given her a new life, Catherine."

"You're the one who gave her a new life, Steve. You rescued her," she reminded him.

Steve nodded as the subject of their conversation crawled onto the air mattress with them. Trooper snuggled up atop their sleeping bags and closed her eyes. "You know I never imagined our kid would be blonde and have a tail," he joked.

"Obviously she takes after your side of the family," Catherine retorted.

"But she has your dark eyes," he teased her right back.

Catherine laughed but suddenly felt her stomach rumble. "As wonderful as your Beef Stew MRE dinner was," she sat up, "I'm still hungry. Did you happen to bring anything to eat other than goji berry energy bars or MREs?"

"Yeah," Steve motioned to his pack. "There's juice, crackers and some trail mix."

She crawled across the air mattress, displacing air from one end to the other and causing the three of them to wobble a bit. Catherine dug out the trail mix. She shoveled a handful of dried pineapple, chocolate chips and almonds into her mouth before spotting something else in his bag that intrigued her. "What is this?" she asked, pulling the item free.

"That's a book," Steve replied with a straight face.

It was hard to be cross with him since they both had rampant sarcastic tendencies. "Yes, it's a book, thank you for that," Catherine replied. "Where'd it come from?"

"House warming gift from Danny," he answered.

"_Communicating with Your Significant Other_," she read the title then flipped the cover open. There were a few sloppily handwritten words, "To Steve and Catherine, may you both enjoy many years of happy conversing. Love, Danny," Catherine stared at Steve for a long moment. "Why haven't I seen this before?"

He shrugged.

"Why'd you bring it on this trip?" she tried again to get an answer.

"You're the one who claims we don't talk enough," he finally said. "And I didn't want you to think this trip was going to be all about us having sex in this tent."

She smiled, thinking about how he'd opened up a lot more since their serious talk in his dad's Mercury. She was grateful for that, and for every small step he made to try and please her. Catherine flipped to the next page and read the first part of the book's introduction, "Conversation increases intimacy. Being vulnerable, open and honest with your significant other, expressing yourself and also listening are all an important part of intimacy."

"It really says that?" Steve was surprised, thinking a little more highly of the book.

Her fingers paged through the book some more, noticing long chapters with heavy titles such as: _The Marriage Conversation_, and _Do You and Your Partner Want Kids?_ Catherine swallowed, having already hit lightly on those topics. She gravitated to a section that seemed like a simple list of questions. "What color…" she began.

"I already know your favorite color," he cut her off. "Blue. Danny and I went over some of these. You don't like Opera and your favorite comfort food is…" he stopped himself from saying he thought it was nasty, "Something special you and your dad share."

Catherine nodded. "Yes, you got all those right. But did you know I find it rude to be interrupted?" she glared at him for a second before returning to the book. "The question was actually, what colors do you like your partner to wear?"

"Oh," Steve felt sufficiently chastised, but tried to mollify her with his lopsided grin. "Does flesh colored count?"

"Black boxer-briefs," Catherine replied. "White cargo pants, and pretty much any shade of blue shirt," she caught him looking at her and smiled. "Makes your eyes look even bluer, like the sea," her voice was caught up in the moment, but she quickly recovered to add, "Dress whites."

"Really?" he questioned her choice. "Not the dress blues?"

Her head shook, "Definitely white." She snuggled beside him but could still feel the stiffness in his arms and back. "Why are you so tense tonight? You do know the meaning of vacation, right? It means to relax," she drew the last word out and then handed him the book before quickly repositioning herself. Catherine flipped him over and straddled his lower back, sitting lightly against his butt. She pushed his shirt up and began to slowly, tenderly massage the taut muscles of his back. "You pick a question."

Steve really just wanted to close his eyes and enjoy the touch of her amazingly strong hands against his back. But he kept the conversation going, reading the next question in the book, "What do you feel are your partner's best and worst qualities?" he cringed, wishing he'd picked a different question. "Can we skip that one?"

"You're stubborn," she replied without hesitation.

"Me?" Steve turned his head a little, but she gently pushed against his cheek and turned him back around. Catherine continued the massage as he answered, "Well, you're stubborn, too. And you can be a bit bossy, also kinda ridged when it comes to doing things your way, probably an only child thing," he realized she'd grown rather quiet and her tender massage had gotten rougher. Steve smiled, "You're also carefree, kind, generous," he could feel her touch lighten again. "You really care about people and bring out the best in them."

She smiled, particularly at the last two. "You have a tendency to become overly focused, sometimes to the point of being fixated on things, which is usually a good thing when it comes to work. But it can be an annoyance when I want you to relax," Catherine leaned forward, her hair brushing against his back as she whispered in his ear. "You'd do anything for your friends and family, and you have an amazingly sweet side that I've been fortunate enough to see."

His eyes did close for a moment, still languishing in her tender ministrations. Steve finally reopened them and read the next question, "Do you think you or your partner should do the majority of the housework, or share it?"

"Did you just make that one up?" she asked, glancing over his shoulder. The words were all there and she sat back. "Share it," Catherine responded. "Watching you wash the dishes or vacuum are both serious turn-ons."

He chuckled, having read ahead in the book. "Interestingly enough the next question is about what turns you on sexually?"

"A man doing chores is very sexy," Catherine maintained. "There were days I would spend hours watching those sailors swab the deck, the way they could move those mops around with just the slightest flick of their wrist…" she sighed happily at the memory.

"Why did I not know about this cleaning kink of yours?" Steve was intrigued. "First on my turn-on list includes you in an apron, backing," he laughed lightly.

"How very domestic of you," she replied.

"And then we have you dressed in anything of a camouflage nature," Steve knew she'd probably already guessed that one. "Watching you on a surf board riding a wave…"

Catherine leaned forward, pressing her chest against his backside. The massage was momentarily forgotten as she ran her hands through his closely cropped hair and kissed the back of his neck. "The way you walk when you're in a take charge sort of mood, all arms swinging and chest puffed up," she added one of her favorite turn-ons. Catherine could feel him trying to shift beneath her but she kept him pinned and glanced at the book.

"If your partner had bad breath or body odor, would you tell them… lovely," she disapproved. "Why does that question follow sexual turn-ons?"

"I'd tell you," he finally got the upper hand and shifted beneath her, rolling them both so he was on top of her. Steve kissed her neck in return, paying special attention to the junction of ear and neck. "But you always smell good," he noted, "Even now after a morning spent teaching self-defense and a long afternoon of hiking, and no shower," Steve kissed her on the lips, slowly, tauntingly. "And your breath smells like fruit and nuts."

She laughed; incredibly amused that trail mix on her breath was causing such a positive reaction from him. But Catherine had plans to make him wait a little longer. She snatched the book that he'd left open and read another of the questions, "Do you think you and your partner should agree on everything?"

Steve sighed, somewhat frustrated by her hard-to-get behavior. But he did like the challenge. "No, of course not," he answered.

"Agreed," Catherine grinned. "Do you believe love is all you need for a lasting relationship?" she asked the next question on the list before realizing the weight of it. There didn't seem to be much order to them.

The pensive look that washed over his features caused her some worry. Catherine hated that he felt uncomfortable about not being able to return her sentiments of love. "No," she answered the question she'd asked. "Love is important, but it can only take you so far. You can love someone and still hurt them. You also need to know you can depend on a person. You need trust, and you need to be able to talk about anything, at any time," Catherine revealed her thoughts.

"You need honesty," Steve replied.

Catherine nodded, although honesty was a topic she still shied away from even though he'd forgiven her for what happened with Doris and the Mangosta lie she'd kept from him for months. "Do you and your partner have pet names for each other?" she quickly covered by asking another question. "We don't, do we?"

"What would we call each other," Steve wondered, wishing he hadn't backed down so easily after bringing up the topic of honesty. "Sweetie? Honey? Baby?"

"Not the last one," she promptly replied. "My mom still calls me her baby," Catherine noted. "And Danny calls you babe," she reminded him.

"Does that make you jealous?" he winked.

Her head shook, "Not at all. Danny can have you as a work partner, but other than that you're all mine, sailor," Catherine grinned. "I guess I call you sailor. And sometimes we call each other Commander and Lieutenant," she pointed out. "I think that qualifies. I also think if you called me sweetie or honey I might puke."

Steve reached out to grab the book. He tossed it across the air mattress and pulled her toward him again. "Thank you," he said with a quick, soft kiss pressed against her lips.

"For what? Wanting to puke if you called me some cutesy pet name?" she was confused by his response.

"No," Steve responded. "Thank you for not being like anyone other than you," he clarified, holding her tightly. Steve couldn't help once again feeling like a complete hypocrite in her presence. Danny was right, he had to tell Catherine the truth even at the risk of someone finding out and following through on their threats. He was actually grateful for her camping choice, thinking the woods an unlikely place to be found out by anyone else. "Catherine, there's something I need to tell you," he managed to at least get those words out.

Catherine sat up. "Can you hold that thought for a few minutes? Because I really need to pee," she announced.

As much as he'd just been ready to spill everything to her, Steve was thankful for the interruption.

"Isn't this a romantic evening we're having," she remarked while pulling on shoes and grabbing a flashlight and the roll of toilet paper from her bag, "Dog farts, telling each other what our faults are, and spontaneous declarations of having to pee," Catherine grinned as she planted a brief kiss on his cheek. "I promise this vacation will get better as soon as I return."

"Take your cell phone with you, and Trooper," Steve instructed.

"Why?" she was already crouched by the door, hand on the zipper and looking impatient. "I'm just going to squat behind a tree and do my thing. I doubt I'll need GPS or Trooper to help me find my way back," Catherine watched him frown. "Besides, I left my phone in the truck back at the trailhead."

His frown intensified. "Take my phone, then," he insisted. "It probably gets a better signal out here than yours would," Steve realized. "And remember there are people that hunt out here, not to mention the training camp is nearby."

"Do we even have permission to camp out here?" she questioned.

"Yes, I have a permit," Steve nodded. "Had to call in a favor, but… would you just take the phone," he tried again.

"Thanks, but I think I can manage this mission solo, Commander," she undid the zipper and slipped through the door before he could try to further protest. "I'll be right back," she added once outside.

Steve sighed and tossed the cell phone back into his pack. He listened to the soft sound of her footsteps as she walked further away from the tent. Trooper raised her head, alert and disturbed by Steve's uneasiness. "How did we end up with such a stubborn woman in our lives, Troop?" Steve asked the dog.

Trooper cocked her head to one side, seemingly at a loss for an answer.

They waited inside the tent for several minutes, but when Steve could no longer hear anything from outside he threw on his shoes, clasped Trooper's leash to her collar and went outside to check the area. "Catherine?" he spoke in a regular tone of voice, his flashlight pointed around the site. The narrow beam of light glinted off tree branches and underbrush. Steve glanced down at his watch and realized it had been nearly ten minutes since she'd left the tent.

No answer followed his inquire. Steve turned his flashlight off for a moment in the hopes of catching a glimpse of hers.

"Where is she, girl?" he asked the dog, not seeing any spark of light.

The moon overhead was just a sliver of waning crescent. Only darkness ruled the night.

He hated how his mind instantly drifted to the name Ron Alberts, the man who'd taken him and Lucy hostage during a simple Aloha Girl camping trip. Steve hated that nearly everything in his life was marred by some crime. "Catherine?" his voice was raised a little, still not wanting to jump to any conclusions. "This isn't funny," he warned, even though he very much doubted she was trying to play a trick on him, especially not after what they'd both endured at the hands of El Condor a few months back.

Panic quickly seeped in when she still didn't respond to his call. He reignited his flashlight and set off with Trooper, hoping the Labrador might sniff her out.

"Catherine!" he finally shouted her name as loud as he could into the night.

* * *

**To be continued…**


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Hawaii Five-0_.

**I swear I work on this story at least a little everyday, and I am dedicated to finishing it, but it's turned into a bit of a beast. So please be patient with me? And thank you so much for reading!**

* * *

**You Owe Me  
****Part 9**

By  
N. J. Borba

* * *

"_Catherine!"_

_She turned her head at the sound of her name being shouted loudly into the night._

_Steve's voice sounded slightly panicked, which caused her search to become somewhat desperate. Catherine pawed at the ground until she finally made contact with her fallen flashlight. She scooped it up, flicked it back on and then trotted toward the tent and the sound of his yelling. Catherine came trudging through the underbrush, her flashlight casting a beam that wobbled back and forth. "What happened, what's wrong?" she panted, running into Steve and Trooper several yards away from the tent._

"_Hey…" he spun around to face her, looking rather shaken._

"_Why the heck were you yelling?" Catherine added to her inquire once she'd seen that he and Trooper didn't appear to be in any danger._

_He wrapped his arms around her waist and she could actually feel his heart beating against his chest. "You didn't respond the other two times I called your name."_

"_I didn't even hear you until you started shouting," Catherine was a little worried by the way he was practically crushing her. He'd done the same thing a few months back after he'd found her at Ka'ena point, which they weren't too far from at the moment._

"_I got worried because you were out here for so long, and I couldn't hear you," Steve admitted, taking a few deep breaths to calm his rattled mind._

_She chuckled softly, remaining in his embrace. "Yeah, well you not hearing me pee was kind of the point," Catherine replied. "And while I was in squat mode I had the flashlight held between my chin and my chest, which was a bad plan because it slipped. I tried to catch it and ended up flinging it into the bushes, which apparently flipped the switch off. So I was pants down in complete darkness…" she shook off that thought, not needing to go into any further detail. "Next thing I know you're yelling and I found the flashlight."_

_Catherine took Trooper's leash from him and aimed them all back toward the tent. "Come on, sailor. Obviously you haven't learned the meaning of the word vacation yet, because you look like you're about ready to burst a blood vessel," she noticed the veins in his neck and forehead looking strained. "I'm going to keep reminding you to relax the next few days."_

_They settled back in the tent and Steve did his best to unwind as instructed._

_Trooper was already dozing off by the time Catherine had washed her hands with a wet wipe and had both of their flashlights repositioned for easy retrieval if they needed to return to the dark night for any reason. "Very first thing I'm doing when we get back home is buying you one of those hands-free headlight flashlight thingies," Steve said, curling up beside her atop their snuggly air mattress nest._

_Their lips melted against one another for a moment, but it didn't lead anywhere. Steve just held her tightly in their tent sanctuary. She couldn't help wondering what was really bothering him as he laid his head against her shoulder and closed his eyes. "Wasn't there something you wanted to tell me earlier?" Catherine prodded._

"_It, uh…"_

_She listened to Steve's hesitation as his eyes remained closed._

"_It wasn't important," he finally said._

Catherine blinked away sleep, waking from the dream with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

That same troubled feeling hadn't gone away for weeks as the same dream kept plaguing her. Of course it wasn't so much a dream as it was her memory of what had happened that first night of their camping trip. Something about Steve's actions that night still haunted her. His panicky words, his clingy behavior, and the way he'd clamed up about telling her something. The look in his eyes earlier that night had her certain there'd been something on his mind, but he'd never mentioned it again.

Now, nearly three weeks past their camping trip, Catherine was still worried about him.

She rolled onto her side and noticed the time on the small digital clock atop her bedside table. "How is it so late," Catherine groaned, stretching and sitting up.

Trooper lifted her head in greeting, though she remained rooted at the foot of the bed. "Why didn't you wake me, girl?" Catherine asked, reaching forward to pat her canine companion atop the head. "I can't just sleep all day. Even though I don't really have anything to do," she realized. "Billy is still in San Francisco taking care of his father who got sick over the holidays," Catherine continued to talk to the dog as she extracted herself from bed.

"I guess I could keep running surveillance on Nina Bishop's husband. She's still paying us. But it seems like a hundred and twenty hours of footage of him playing golf should be evidence enough that he's not having an affair. At least not with anyone other than his nine-iron," Catherine lamented her lack of interest in that job as she went to the shower and turned it on. Trooper followed her into the bathroom, seemingly keeping guard.

"Could put some feelers out for other business," she added. "Billy's way better at that part than I am, though. I could call the Flay sisters and see if they want a self-defense lesson," Catherine went on. "Or maybe just take them and Grace on a shopping trip? It is a Saturday, a day most people relax," her thoughts drifted to Steve again, knowing he'd left earlier, mumbling something about work. "Hmm, except I think Grace is with her mom this weekend, so probably no shopping trip for us."

After a nice long shower, some clean clothing and a small breakfast, Catherine found herself at Five-0 headquarters. She'd abandoned all her other Saturday afternoon options in favor of seeking out Steve's company. He was keeping so busy lately that they rarely saw each other, at least not for longer than it took to kiss hello or good-bye. Catherine couldn't help worrying she'd done or said something wrong that had led to his avoidance.

HQ was quiet as she entered the side door closest to Steve's office. Catherine could see right away that he wasn't there but she went into his office and sat down behind his desk.

"Catherine?" Danny stuck his head inside the office a moment later. "Thought I saw you come in here," he nervously glanced at the bank of desk drawers to her left, knowing that Steve was still keeping the threatening notes hidden there.

"I'm guessing Steve isn't here?" she sat back with a frustrated sigh.

Danny's head shook as he fully entered the office. "He and Chin went to meet Grover in Pearl City. They're questioning a suspect we think might've been involved in those jewelry store robberies last month, a partner. I stayed behind to work on some paperwork since I don't have Grace this weekend," he relayed.

"Do any of you ever take a day off?" Catherine wondered.

"Occasionally," Danny chuckled softly. "But not if Steve is calling the shots, and he's been a little bossier than usual lately," the detective revealed. "I could definitely use a break right now, though," he slid into the black leather chair across from her. "What's up? How've you been?"

"I'm worried about Steve," she didn't dance around the issue foremost on her mind.

"Oh?" Danny instantly felt uncomfortable with their conversation, knowing what he knew about the notes and Steve's precarious walk along the lying tightrope. He'd actually been actively avoiding Catherine for weeks since Christmas.

"The last few months he's been very clingy, and you know that's not really his thing. It took us years to even get to where we are now," Catherine watched as Danny nodded. "And I know he's got some super-duper tracker system imbedded into my phone that could probably find me on the moon," she exaggerated, not terribly upset by that fact. "When we were camping over New Year's he seemed really tense, freaking out almost every time I left his sight for more than a second or two. But the past three weeks it feels like he's been avoiding me all together," she sighed, head shaking minimally. "And you probably don't want to hear all this…"

He shrugged. "It's okay," Danny offered, not wanting to evade her any longer. Not after hearing how obviously distressed she was about Steve's behavior.

"I just wish he'd talk to me, come clean about what's really bothering him…" she trailed off.

"I'm guessing it has to do with Wo Fat," Danny quickly tried to calm her fears. "You know he was supposed to be extradited to China on the first of January, but they've changed the transfer date twice in the last three weeks. You'd think a delay would be a good thing, but Steve has trouble with not being able to control a situation," he stated, trying not to blurt out that his friend was really so tense lately because he'd been lying to Catherine for nearly three months.

"You're probably right," Catherine smiled softly. "I guess I just wish there was something I could do for him."

"Probably not, unless you can promise to never…" Danny stopped himself short from saying that Steve's biggest fear was of losing her.

She sat forward. "Never what, Danny? You know something, don't you?"

"Please, Catherine," he leaned forward, shifting uncomfortably as he realized he'd said too much. "Can we just pretend I didn't say anything?"

"You didn't," her eyes narrowed in thought, trying to work out the underlying meaning of Danny's words.

His head shook as he got to his feet and paced. "Don't put me in this position, Catherine," he practically begged. "It's bad enough that Steve has already got me stuck between a rock and a hard place. I can't say anything. Steve should be the one to tell you what's going on."

"What do you know, Danny?" she couldn't just let it go so easily.

"I can't tell you," Danny maintained, feeling rotten inside. He wanted to punch Steve in the mouth for putting him in the middle of such a horrible situation. He thought of Catherine like family and it was tearing him up inside to see her so worried. Especially since he knew exactly what it was she really needed to be worried about. "You have to talk to him, and don't give up until he tells you," Danny implored. "He needs to get it out. He really does."

"Danny," Catherine sat forward, looked him in the eye. "You'd tell me if Steve was cheating on me?"

"What? No!" he exclaimed. Danny's jaw twitched with barely controlled anger, ready to give Steve a piece of his mind. "I mean… he's not," Danny quickly clarified. "But, yes, I would tell you if he was because I'd punch his lights out. Of course he'd never do that to you," Danny was at least confident of that fact, "Never."

Catherine felt slightly deceitful, "Danny, relax. I wasn't really being serious about the cheating thing," although she did breathe a little easier upon hearing his adamant reply. "I guess I figured if it was something bigger than that you might spill. But thank you for what you said, that you'd tell me," Catherine sat back, her thoughts beginning to jump to all sorts of different conclusions. "Maybe I never should've told him I love him," she wondered aloud.

"Jeez, no, Catherine," Danny felt awful again. He really was going to punch his idiot friend the next time he saw the man. "I'm almost certain he feels the same way about you. It's kind of hard to see it, though, right? I don't really get what his whole issue with saying it out loud is… maybe it's the Doris thing," Danny shrugged as he leaned against the back of the chair he'd been sitting in earlier. "But the fact that he was looking at rings three months ago should tell you how serious he really is about…" he stopped, realizing what he'd just said.

"Rings?" she immediately asked.

"Did I just say rings?" Danny stumbled, "I didn't mean looking at rings as in he was…"

"Danny," Catherine tried to help the poor guy out of a tough spot. "Is Steve planning to propose?"

"Well… he was kicking around the idea," Danny sighed in disgust, not sure why he'd used such stupid words. "Yes, that was the plan. We went ring shopping but he couldn't decide on one, and then when he found out you were pretty much against the whole getting married thing… wow, you know what, I'm shutting up now," the detective sighed.

She swallowed apprehensively, "Steve was actually looking at rings?"

"He was," Danny nodded, knowing he'd already said too much to deny the facts now.

Catherine tried to wrap her head around that unexpected news for a moment. She was somewhat glad for the distraction of the ringing cell phone in her bag. As she pulled it free and glanced down at the screen Catherine grimaced over her business partner's rather bad timing. Her eyes reconnected with Danny. "It's Billy," she told him. "I should probably take this."

"Yeah, sure, I'll give you some privacy," Danny immediately sprang at the opportunity to duck out of Steve's office.

"Billy, hi," she answered the call. There wasn't much more to say on her end as she listened to Billy rattle off at length about the details of a fairly large job he'd secured for them. As she listened Catherine caught sight of Danny hovering just outside Steve's office door. She noticed the detective was on a phone call as well, and he looked more than a little upset by whatever was being said on the other end of his call.

"_Catherine… you still there?_"

Her attention snapped back to Billy. "Sorry. I'm here. It all sounds like a great opportunity," Catherine grabbed a pen out of a container atop Steve's desk, but she couldn't find a piece of paper to write down the information Billy needed to give her. She momentarily lamented Steve's tidiness and was about to ask Billy to just text the information, but she finally found a blank envelope in Steve's middle desk drawer. She scrawled down the numbers Billy gave her, "Yeah, I'll be ready," Catherine agreed before disconnecting.

In her rush, Catherine hadn't noticed that the envelope had Steve's name on the other side, or that it was actually full of paper. She felt bad for having grabbed the first thing she'd found. Catherine removed the folded pages and returned them to the drawer. She kept the envelope and made a mental note to tell Steve what she'd done. As she stepped out of his office Danny nearly ran right into her. "Whoa, where's the fire?" she asked.

He stood there for a moment looking at her. "Catherine, uh…"

"What's wrong, Danny?" her whole body tensed seeing the concern in his eyes.

"It's Steve," he finally said. "Apparently they were ambushed by their suspect and Chin said Steve was shot."

"How bad…" Catherine gulped.

"I think just his arm. They're already at the hospital, so…" Danny trailed off as he watched Catherine rush toward the door. "I'll drive," he offered, darting after her.

000

Catherine tapped her foot impatiently. "Steve McGarrett," she repeated his name a third time, leaning heavily against the nurse's station counter.

"Sorry," the red-headed woman behind the counter replied. "I'm just not seeing anyone by that name admitted to the ER this afternoon."

Catherine let go a frustrated sigh. Danny had dropped her off at the main entrance so she could find out where Steve was right away while he parked. But she hadn't gotten very far yet. "Big M, little c, big G, a… r, r… e, t, t," she did her best to enunciate each letter. "Can you please just check again, one more time," Catherine insisted, trying to remain composed.

"Oh," the woman glanced at her screen. "I was spelling it wrong," she admitted, looking genuinely sorry. "He's in exam room twelve."

"Which is where?" Catherine asked.

"Down the hall to your right," the nurse replied, standing and moving around the counter to block Catherine's path, "Are you a family member?"

"Yes, I'm his…" Catherine could see the nurse eyeing her left ring finger and finding it bare. She thought about lying and claiming to be his sister, but that didn't feel right. "We live together, and I love him. Just because we aren't married doesn't mean I'm not family…" Catherine's voice faltered, feeling like she was about to lose it. A supportive hand rested against her back and Catherine was utterly grateful to have Danny there beside her.

He flashed his Five-0 badge. "I'm Detective Williams, and the two of us," Danny waved a hand to indicate Catherine, "Are here to see Commander McGarrett. What room again?"

"Twelve," the nurse repeated, taking her seat.

"Thank you," Danny replied politely as he guided Catherine down the hall without looking back. "She was friendly. You okay?"

"Fine," Catherine sighed. "In all fairness, I wasn't being entirely patient with her."

Danny smiled as they walked, always impressed by Catherine's sense of righteousness. "I'm sure Steve is fine," he offered up for the third time since they'd left HQ.

In Catherine's distressed mind the hospital hallway seemed to go on forever as they walked, a sea of beige linoleum stretched out as far as the eye could see. They passed several exam rooms, and the ubiquitous hospital smell of antiseptic and rubber gloves permeated every inch of the building. As they neared exam room twelve, Catherine spotted a woman who appeared to be early thirties, dark hair piled atop her head in a messy bun. "Steve McGarrett?" Catherine asked, eyeing the door.

"You're in the right place," the woman smiled in a friendly manner. "He's in there," she pointed over her shoulder. "I'm Nancy, I just took his vitals and everything seems fine. Nurse Dixon is in there now finishing his stitches, but you can go in."

Thankful for the woman's kindness, Danny held the door open for Catherine.

The exam room was tiny and already packed with four people. Chin was seated on a hard plastic chair against the back wall, and Grover's bulk took up the remainder of the space beside Chin. Steve was in a seated position on the exam bed. He had his cargo pants on but a hospital gown was draped over his chest, mostly covering his right shoulder and exposing a pretty nasty wound high on his left shoulder. Steve looked up when Catherine entered the room and smiled to see her, but he easily noticed the frightened look in her dark eyes.

"This is nothing, you should see the other guy," Steve joked. "Bullet took a bite out of me but didn't like what it tasted, headed right through the other side," he explained.

Grover flashed Catherine a guarded look. "Apparently he's not just hard-headed but bullet proof, too. That slug came a quarter inch from shattering shoulder bone, and another eighth of an inch away from hitting a major vein. He's still lost plenty blood."

"Don't tell her all that," Steve glared threateningly at the Captain. "Why would you tell her that? You're worse than Danny."

"I'm standing right here, babe," Danny waved a hand from his position by the door.

Chin got up and tapped Grover on the arm. "We're going to take off."

"You should get some rest, Superman," Grover instructed Steve as he followed Chin to the door.

"He's right," Chin agreed, smiling at Grover's Superman comment. "Marcus Bellows isn't likely to be found again today. Grover called the incident in to HPD and they'll start canvasing for him. But I don't want to see you back at headquarters again until Monday morning at the earliest. That means not tomorrow, but the day after. Understood?"

"Fine, yes," Steve gave in rather easily, "Just quit your nagging and get out of here."

With a little more space to maneuver, Catherine went to Steve's right side as soon as Grover and Chin had exited. She sat on the edge of the exam bed and pressed herself against his right side, doing her best not to jar him too much as the nurse finished up his stitches. "Hey," he whispered as her face buried against his shoulder. "I'm fine."

Catherine didn't say anything, just held on to him.

Steve looked to Danny with an arched brow. Danny just shrugged.

"There," the nurse was the first one to say anything as she finished taping a bandage over his stitches. "You're going to need to keep that clean and dry. And be sure to change the dressing every few hours. But you shouldn't have too much of a scar," the woman noted.

"I've found that women think scars are sexy," Steve joked with the nurse even as Catherine remained silently at his side.

The nurse smiled as she wrote something down on his chart. "I'll try to get the doctor in here as soon as possible so you can head home and rest."

Danny held the door for the nurse as she exited. He looked to Steve again, "I'll just be out in the hall when you're ready to go. Since I'm the only ride you've got."

After both of them were gone, Steve looked to Catherine again. He could feel her warm breath against his neck as he stroked her silky hair. "You want to look at me?" he coaxed.

She sat back a little but remained close, feeling nearly as clingy as he had during their campout.

"I really am fine," he assured her. "I've had worse, and you've never reacted like this before."

"Yeah, well, things have changed a little haven't they? Our relationship isn't just casual any more," her words came out laced with anger that she hadn't expected. "Is it?" she looked him in the eye and could see him struggling with an answer. Catherine sighed as she stood, "Never mind. Obviously you've locked your emotions behind some invisible door recently, for whatever reason, I don't know. I feel like I have no idea what's going on with you right now and…" she walked to the door. "I'm just going to wait in the hall with Danny."

"Catherine, hang on…" Steve was on his feet, groping for the clean t-shirt Chin had brought for him. Most of them kept extra clothing and gear on hand in their vehicles.

"What happened in here?" Danny asked as he reentered the room. "Catherine just stormed down the hall like the devil was after her."

"Good question," Steve grumbled as he shrugged off the hospital gown and struggled to put the t-shirt on with only one decently functioning shoulder.

Danny helped his friend, getting the shirt over his head and through both arm holes with minimal discomfort. "Did she mention the ring thing or the proposal?"

Steve's eyes widened as he leaned against the exam bed, winded from just putting on a shirt, "What are you talking about? What ring thing…" he stared at his friend for what felt like hours. "Danny, what have you done? Did you tell her I was going to propose? Why would you do that? I told you about her parents and that she…"

"Do not even put this on me, pal," Danny warned.

Steve dismissed his friend in favor of seeking out Catherine. He was about to exit the tiny room when the doctor knocked and came in. About five minutes later he gave Steve the all clear. Catherine was outside the door waiting when Steve and Danny exited. The three of them walked down the hall in silence, a pattern that continued all the way to Danny's car, all the way back to HQ where Catherine and Danny transferred Steve to her car, all the way home, and all the way up to the second floor bedroom Steve and Catherine shared.

Ten minutes after arriving home, Steve shifted a little in bed as she roughly stuffed a third fluffy pillow behind his back. His shoes were kicked off, legs outstretched, a small blanket spread across his lap and Trooper curled at his feet. "You know, Chin and Grover were overreacting; telling me to stay home and all," he finally dared to say something. "I have a sore shoulder, not like I'm in a coma. This is ridiculous," Steve waved his right hand over the bed.

She resisted an urge to whack him in the head with a pillow. Instead she stood beside him, hands on hips. "You were shot. Is that what you call ridiculous?" Catherine shook her head and left the room. She returned a few minutes later with a tray, glad that he hadn't tried to escape the bed. "Here, water and orange juice," she sat the tray down on the bed. "You lost a lot of blood, you should relax and hydrate, get your blood sugar levels regulated."

"Yes, nurse," he grinned, hoping to ease over whatever was wrong. But it was pretty plain to see by the look in her eyes that Catherine was not amused or easily appeased by his charms. "Hey, I'm sorry for being so stubborn," Steve reached for her hand but she wouldn't take it. "I'll stay home and rest today."

"And tomorrow," she added.

"But I'll be fine in the morn…" Steve caught her eye, but he didn't understand her fear. "I'm good, Cath. I've barely had a sniffle the last ten years."

"Just broken bones, dislocated shoulder, bruises, cuts, scrapes, and probably more than one concussion… now you've been shot," she pointed out. "Am I forgetting anything?"

"Point taken," he whispered, feeling amply reprimanded. Steve dared to finally take her hand and drew her closer. "Look at me, please," he tried to persuade her, tenderly caressing her palm with his thumb. But he could still see her dark eyes weren't yielding to him. "Okay, you win. I'll stay home and rest tomorrow, too," but even at that Steve could see she wasn't pleased. "Are you hungry? We could order in an early dinner, eat in bed…" she pulled away from him again. "Cath, will you please just tell me what's wrong?"

She stood at the foot of the bed, hands on hips again. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"What?" he'd never been so confused by her behavior before.

"I thought it was a pretty easy question," she sighed. "But I'll repeat it for you… do you think I'm stupid?"

"No," he answered firmly, seeing a fire building behind her eyes. Steve didn't think he'd ever seen the sort of look she was shooting at him at the moment. "No, Catherine, that's not a word I would ever use to describe you," he conveyed.

"Good. I'm glad we're at least in agreement on that," Catherine replied. She dropped both hands to her side, spun on her heel and marched toward the closet. One of her large suitcases was dragged out by the handle. She hefted it onto the bed and plunked it down beside Steve. Catherine unzipped the main compartment and flipped it open.

"What are you doing?" he sat forward. One of the pillows wedged behind him fell to the floor as his heartbeat ramped up.

"Packing," Catherine replied as simply as possible as she went to the bottom dresser drawer and pulled out several pairs of pants. She tossed them into the bag on the bed and proceeded to the next drawer up. "I need to leave," she added.

His mouth went dry as he watched her pack a few bulky sweaters he didn't think he'd ever seen her wear, or even knew she owned. Steve got to his feet and approached her beside the dresser. "Catherine, you don't want to do this. Please, we need to talk…"

"Really?" she faced him with a look that combined disbelief and irritation. "Is this going to be another talk like the one we had when we went away for New Years? You tell me you have something important to say and then after you freak out about me going to the bathroom alone you suddenly don't have anything to say," her voice cracked a little as she bit off the last word with a great deal of difficulty.

"Catherine, what's wrong?" Steve wanted to hold her, but he was afraid of her guarded body language, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

She took a deep breathe, "It's going to be cold where I'm headed," Catherine went back to the closet and returned with the hand knitted scarf and mitten set he'd given her for Christmas. "At least I'll get some further use out of these," she couldn't help recall ice skating with him, wishing everything in their lives could be so simple and carefree. Catherine caught his eye and stared at him for a long time. "Actually, it's going to be freezing where I'm going. I'll need some socks… lots of socks."

The two of them stood still for a long moment after her declaration, like some version of a Wild West standoff.

He watched her make the first move, cutting around the bed and heading straight toward the dresser again. Her hand hovered against the middle sock drawer and his heart thumped. Steve followed her back to the dresser. "Wait, Cath," he breathed out with some difficulty. "Will you just stop for a second and talk to me."

"But you don't like to talk," she accused.

"You're upset about something," he pointed out the obvious.

She shrugged, dismissing his comment. "Nope, I just really need some socks," Catherine repeated, even though she made no further move to actually open the drawer.

As their eyes met again, Steve's stomach flopped. "You know what's in that drawer, don't you?" he breathed out slowly, almost relieved.

"Socks, I would assume," she retorted before finally opening the drawer. Catherine pushed past a pile of white athletic socks and pulled the equally white envelope free. She held it aloft for a moment and then tossed it onto the bed before facing Steve again. "Like you said, I'm not stupid."

His heart broke to hear the frustration in her voice. "How long have you known those picture where there?"

"I found them just after Thanksgiving," Catherine revealed.

"Are you kidding me?" he was shocked by her admission. "Why didn't you say something?"

Catherine gaped at him, "Why didn't _I_ say something?" she turned away and actually grabbed a few pairs of socks from the drawer. Catherine angrily stuffed them into her suitcase, her eyes gazing at the envelope atop their bed. "Those were taken the morning of my retirement party when you went to the store," she pointed at the envelope accusingly. "At first I thought maybe you were having me followed because of those pictures of me and Billy, that maybe you actually suspected me of cheating on you with Billy."

"No, Cath, no… I wouldn't have you followed," Steve was adamant, "And I'd never suspect you of cheating on me with anyone," he was starting to realize just how much of an idiot he'd been to keep her in the dark. "I thought the Dugan case was over, that the pictures were all a part of that. But then when they kept coming…"

"So there've been more?" she asked.

"Yes. One set a week for… until the week of Christmas. Then they stopped," Steve revealed.

Her eyed bore into him, "And you didn't think I should know about them?"

He knew there was no way to stop the avalanche that had already started. "I can't apologize for being worried about you, Catherine," he conveyed with a sigh. "I thought simply not telling you would keep you safe. Maybe that was naïve of me, but when the notes started to make threats on your life it seemed to confirm my belief that not telling you was for the best. And then… everything seemed to escalate from there; my worry, my desire to protect you."

"What notes?" she asked, only able to focus on one thing at a time.

Steve remained standing, facing her, knowing she deserved the full truth. He recited the notes' contents to her, nearly word for word, having read each of them enough times.

"But they stopped?" Catherine was still doing her best to play detective, it helped her to not dwell so much on the fear pooling in her belly.

He nodded, "Maybe Danny was right," Steve commented. "Could be that this psycho is too much of a coward to follow through."

"You don't believe that," she whispered.

"I…" it didn't take long for his response to clearly reflect in his eyes.

Catherine didn't even need his words.

She gently bit her bottom lip, still trying to sift through everything he'd just told her. "You're constantly running around trying to protect me, worrying about me," Catherine took a quick breath. "Well, guess what? You're not the only one who has a monopoly on worry. I worry about you, too, Steve. All the time. I know you have a job to do and I'd never try to stand in the way of that, but do you honestly think I don't get scared about you being in danger every day? Worry works both ways."

Trying to tread as lightly as possible, Steve ventured, "You're mad."

"I'm not mad," she replied before returning to the dresser to grab underwear.

"You sound mad," Steve placed a hand against her arm, gently turning her back around.

She looked up at him with a lump in her throat. "I'm disappointed."

He could see that in her eyes and it was actually worse than anger. "Catherine, I'm so sorry."

"I know," Catherine swallowed a sigh. "I believe you're sorry. But, you… you keep telling me you trust me yet I just hear the words, Steve. I'm not seeing any follow through in your actions," she revealed her deeper feelings on the matter. "I spent so many years in the Navy feeling inferior, working with men who constantly questioned my abilities. Dealing with their mindset that I was less than them, always feeling I had to earn their respect," she breathed outward. "You're the last person I expected that kind of treatment from."

"That's not true," Steve immediately hoped to rectify and indication of such an egregious misconception. "Last year when… you're the only person I ever would've agreed to walk into North Korea with to retrieve Freddie's body. I don't feel that I've ever treated you as inferior, Catherine. At least I never meant to," he amended. "But I guess my actions lately have only proven to you otherwise," Steve realized. "Catherine, I'm telling you now, honestly, I trust you more than just about anyone I've ever known."

"Don't just say it, show it," she insisted. "Prove it to me. Be honest with me. That's what you demanded of me, isn't it? When I kept your mother's secret to protect you. You were pissed because of that, and I swore I'd always be completely honest with you from that point forward."

"And I forgave you for that, Catherine," he tried to let her know he'd moved on from that indiscretion long ago. "This situation is completely different, and you have every right to be angry at me," Steve offered.

"I told you I'm not mad," Catherine sighed, tossing more articles of clothing into the suitcase.

"You keep saying that, but you are mad, Catherine," he stood in front of her again and lifted her chin, "Look at me, please," Steve implored. "I get that you don't want to be like your parents. You want to avoid fighting or admitting when you're upset. But it's not right to hold all that inside. People aren't perfect; you and I are certainly no exception to that rule. It's okay to fight and be upset sometimes. If you're mad at me then tell me."

"I'm not…" she couldn't even say it again. "Yes, okay, I'm mad at you. I'm pissed off!" her voice raised an octave. "Is that what you want to hear?"

"Yes," he nodded and took a deep breath, grateful that they were finally setting some emotions free. Steve wanted to kiss her, to hold her, but he was still utterly uncertain as to the fragile state of her mind. And his eyes could only seem to concentrate on her suitcase. "Should I… do you want me to help you pack your stuff?" Steve asked, hesitant of the ultimate fallout of his lie. "I know your old place has already rented again, but I could take you to a hotel for now or somewhere else if you want," he offered. "Anywhere."

"Why would I want that?" Catherine was confused by his offer.

"Because you…" Steve waved a hand at her suitcase. "You're upset enough to be packing and I figured…"

"I'm going to Russia," she replied.

He took a moment to digest that news. "That seems extreme, but…"

"I'm not leaving you, Steve," she finally understood what his fear was. "I'm just going to Russia for a job," her hands gently rubbed his forearms, trying to reassure him. "Billy arranged an assignment for us at the Winter Olympics in Sochi. We'll be part of a team setting up security measures for a week before the games start, and then we'll be assigned to a security detail for some of the US ambassadors and other dignitaries attending the ceremonies," Catherine explained.

"Oh," he realized.

Catherine smiled for the first time in weeks. "When I'm done with the job I'm coming home, here, to you," she assured him. "I told you that's the plan. I'll always be coming home to you. As long as that's where you want me to be."

He wrapped his arms around her, finally holding her close again. Steve didn't care how much the hug was hurting his injured shoulder; he didn't want to let her go. "It is," he whispered, feeling unworthy of the forgiveness he'd heard in her words:_ I'm not leaving you_. "Why does three weeks suddenly seem so long?"

"It won't be," Catherine tried to reassure him, as well as her. "I've been away a lot longer," she reminded him. "And the time always flies, right?"

"If you say so," Steve kissed her cheek, not wanting to ever let go of her after realizing how close he'd come to losing her to his lie.

She pulled back a little. "I need to ask a favor."

"That's kind of a reversal," he noted with a soft chuckle. "Anything," Steve offered.

Catherine directed his eye to the big dog still curled on their bed like a cat. Trooper seemed to not have even noticed their spat. "Will you take care of Trooper for me while I'm gone?"

"Yeah, of course," he immediately agreed.

"I mean for real, Steve," Catherine's tone grew increasingly serious. "She needs to be outside several times a day and fed regularly, and you need to leave plenty of water for her when you're gone. And if you have a really long case you'll need to find someone who can come walk her and make sure she's taken care of. I know you weren't terribly won over by Molly and Wendy, but they have offered to watch Trooper if you need help."

"Cath, I can take care of Trooper on my own," he insisted.

"Isn't that what you said about Pinkie?" she asked.

Steve stared at her for a moment. "I… how do you know about Pinkie?" he wondered, though even as he asked the question Steve already knew the answer, "Mary told you about Pinkie. First of all, my sister's oddly named pet goldfish looked sickly from the start. And second, goldfish in general have about the same shelf life as a loaf of bread. I fed Pinkie every day when Mary was away on that Aloha Girls trip. It's not my fault it decided to do the backstroke on the morning she returned."

"The point is the fish died under your care," Catherine noted.

"Does my sister ever tell you _good_ childhood stories about me?" he pouted. "Cath, Trooper and I get along great. And she's more into the dog paddling thing than the backstroke so I think we should be good. We'll probably have so much fun without you I doubt either of us will even miss you," Steve smiled.

"Liar," Catherine accused. She immediately regretted her choice of word when she saw his face, "Sorry."

He breathed out, knowing she hadn't meant to berate him. He was glad she was able to make a joke without dwelling on everything they'd just discussed. "Catherine, don't go."

"What?"

"We're so close to getting Adam and Kono home safely, and that's mostly due to your help. You've been instrumental in getting Intel on the Yakuza. You should be with us for that mission. Stay and work for Five-0," he offered.

She was rather shocked by his sudden proposal. "I have a job to do in Russia. I have a duty to Billy and this company I've helped him build."

"Leave Billy's security company and work with me and the task force," Steve repeated the offer.

"Steve, I…" Catherine sighed regretfully. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd never be able to concentrate if I was in the field with you," she replied.

"That's not true," he denied her accusation.

Catherine frowned. "You've spent the last several weeks freaking out every time I was out of your sight because of this stalker case," she pointed out. "And I nearly fell to pieces today, practically bit some poor nurse's head off when I found out you'd been shot."

Steve knew she was right about those particular instances, but he wasn't ready to back down. "We've worked together before and managed to be completely professional."

"That was before I realized how much I love you," Catherine didn't hesitate to point out. But she could easily see he still had a hard time processing his emotions every time she spoke those words, which was why she hadn't said them much since Christmas. "I don't need you to say it back," she insisted. "I thought I made that clear. The words aren't nearly as important to me as the actions and the feelings behind them, even if those actions have been that of an obsessive worry-wart lately."

He breathed out, "So that's a no?"

"Why did you ask me to stay and work for Five-0 just now?" Catherine questioned. "Was it because you truly value the skillset I could contribute to the team? Or was it just a spontaneous means to keep me close because you're still worried?"

"Little of both," he admitted.

Catherine smiled, grateful of his honesty. "Until it's entirely the first one, my answer is no," she confirmed. "I think too much has happened recently to forge a working relationship on top of our personal one. And you're the one who encouraged me to take the job with Billy in the first place. I want to stand by that decision for now. That's not to say that maybe someday down the road we might be able to make it all work. But right now…"

He kissed her again, always impressed by her realistic sensibilities. "When do you leave?" Steve asked.

"Billy arranged a flight for me tomorrow," she replied. "He's flying out of San Francisco and we'll meet up in D.C. then fly the rest of the way together to Russia."

"So we have tonight?" he verified.

Catherine nodded. "We have tonight. And if I recall correctly, you're meant to be on bed R&R."

"There're a lot of ways to rest and relax in a bed," Steve arched his brow suggestively.

She laughed. "Yes, there are. Including reading, listening to music, sleeping…"

"You're a cruel woman," Steve retorted, though he instantly felt bad for saying those words. "Sorry, Catherine… I didn't mean…"

"Ugh," she groaned, taking him by the hand and guiding him back to bed. Catherine curled up beside him, but not just because Trooper and her suitcase were still taking up a goodly portion of their bed. "Can we please stop apologizing?" she asked with a hopeful tone.

"I'll promise if you promise," Steve offered.

"Promise," she replied without hesitation.

"So… maybe I should put on the dress whites and go wash some dishes? Start to repent?" he suggested.

Catherine's bark of laughter startled Trooper. The dog raised her head and aimed her big, dark eyes upon the two of them for a brief moment before deciding they were just the same crazy, but lovable, family she'd grown used to. "How about the black boxer-briefs…" Catherine replied as she gently petted Trooper with her foot. "Maybe a little vacuuming action, followed by some dusting," she laid her head against his chest. "And I'll consider that a good start."

"You got it," Steve kissed the side of her head. He sighed, still a little worried, though not so much about her safety as before. "Catherine…"

She heard the hesitation in his voice and wondered what else was troubling him. Catherine sat forward a little to look him in the eye. "What?" she prodded.

"I…" Steve regarded her with a heavy heart, feeling sad to know that anyone could think of her as inferior, "I just want you to know how very much I respect you, Catherine." He sat forward as well and clasped her hand in his. "From that first day we worked together in Intel I knew you were someone who held the job in high regard and would stop at nothing to get it done properly, you do that with everything you take on. I respect that, and I respect _you_," Steve asserted.

With more gratitude than she could ever relay in words, Catherine did her best to convey it with a kiss.

000

She rolled onto her side as the annoying buzz of her cell phone persisted.

Catherine groaned, not wanting to open her eyes fully for fear she'd never get back to sleep. Not that she'd been fully asleep to begin with. The first two weeks of her Olympic Games security assignment had left Catherine feeling like she was almost always on call. And even when she wasn't working the hotel was rarely quiet enough to sleep restfully, always bustling with the comings and goings of dignitaries, news media personnel and former athlete delegates.

She blindly groped the bedside table for the phone as it vibrated again. Catherine cracked her eyelids just a hair in order to swipe the screen and answer the call, not bothering to even take note of the caller's identity, "Hello?"

"_Hello, pookie-bear_."

She sat up a little, eyes opened fully as she glared at her phone, "Who is this?" Catherine asked.

"_It's Steve."_

It certainly sounded like his voice, but she was thrown by his choice of words. "What did you just call me?"

"_I was trying out a pet name, thought maybe we could still give that a shot_."

"Yeah, no," her head flopped back onto the pillow. "Promise you won't call me pookie-bear again," she groaned.

"_How about Cutie?"_

"No."

"_Hot lips? Snookums?_"

"Stop it," Catherine warned with a not-so-threateningly chuckle, swiftly worn down by his goofy tone. His voice seemed so relaxed she still wasn't even sure if it really was Steve. It seemed like a very long time since she'd heard him sound so cheerful.

"_Would you prefer battle axe?_"

That one certainly caught her attention. "Okay, now you've crossed a line, mister," she responded. "You are so lucky there's nearly eight thousand miles of land and ocean between us right now," Catherine felt sleep slipping away and she reached over to flick on her lamp.

"_But a battle axe is a very cool weapon. I thought you'd approve. What did you think I meant?_"

A small bubble of laughter escaped even as she tried to keep up pretenses, "I'll tell you what _I mean_… don't ever call me battle axe or pookie-bear."

"_Sorry, Lieutenant_," she could hear his chuckle over the line. "_I won't let it happen again, on my honor_."

"You weren't being serious at all, were you?" Catherine realized how much she'd missed the sound of his voice, relaxed or otherwise. They'd only been able to chat a few times the last two weeks and usually for a very short time because the fourteen hour time difference typically left one of them talking in the wee hours of the night.

"_No, I'd never try to seriously call you pookie-bear and think I could live to tell about it._"

"I wish I was home right now," she felt like a wimp for revealing that fact to him. "It's freezing here and I miss Trooper. How is she?"

"_Really, you miss the sun and Trooper? That all?_"

Catherine smiled. "I thought missing you was a given."

"_Nice save, Lieutenant. As for Trooper, she's doing just fine. We had a nice meal together last night, chicken and rice kibble for her and a lovely grilled sea bass for me. Then we went for a moonlit run on the beach. And she slept next to me in bed. She's very cuddly and warm_."

"Great, now I'm officially jealous of my dog," she lamented.

"_You sound tired_."

"I am," she sighed. "I keep thinking this jetlag fatigue of mine will end soon, but with all the activity going on around here I don't ever seem able to catch up with myself," Catherine was grateful to be able to talk to him. She couldn't very well complain about the job to Billy. "I've never had such a hard time adjusting to a different time zone before. Probably doesn't help that it's just after midnight here right now and I was on the verge of falling asleep."

"_Oh, Cath… I'm sorry. I thought, shoot… I must have miscalculated_."

"You can Google these things, you know?" she teased, not really upset at him.

"_True…_"

A different sort of buzzing caught her attention. Catherine's eyes focused on the exterior door of her hotel room.

"_What was that sound?_"

"Apparently some idiot is at my door at midnight," she sighed, turning the lamp off in an attempt to go unnoticed by anyone outside her door. "This place is pretty much going all hours of the day and night. If I'm quiet they'll go away," even as she said those words the door buzzer sounded again.

"_Maybe you should see what it's about_."

"Why?" Catherine asked, keeping her voice low.

"_I don't know, could be something important._"

She stared at her phone again, contemplating his odd comment. "Steve, do you know something about who's at my door that I don't?" Catherine kept the cell to her ear but practically leapt out of bed. She glanced down at her over-sized Olympic rings t-shirt and shrugged, figuring it was decent enough attire. Especially if her hunch was correct. Catherine opened the door with a hopeful look that was dashed the second she noticed a familiar young blonde man she knew to work at the hotel.

He happily presented a red, heart shaped box to her, "Delivery for you," his very well pronounced English was punctuated by a definite Russian accent.

"Spasibo," Catherine replied, taking the box from him. The simple reply earned her a small smile from the young man before he turned and headed down the hall.

"_What happened?_"

Catherine closed the door, "Someone just delivered a heart shaped box of chocolates."

"_That was nice of someone. Who are they from?_"

There was a shiny red card taped to the top of the box that she hadn't noticed until Steve had asked. She opened the card and read the message to him over the phone, "Chocolates will have to do for now. I promise you better than chocolate when you get home. Steve."

"_Who's this Steve guy that's sending you chocolate?_"

She chuckled softly and crawled back into bed, warm comforter pulled up high as she hugged the box against her chest. "Nobody special," Catherine replied.

"_Do you like the gift?_"

"Very much, thank you," Catherine realized she hadn't said that yet. "Not exactly what I was hoping might be at my door, but…"

"_Cath, did you think I was going to be there?_"

"Sorta," she admitted.

"_You really are homesick, aren't you?_"

"Never had a home to miss before," Catherine defended her sentiment.

"_I wish I could've jumped a flight to Russia,_" she heard the sincerity in his voice. "_I'd like nothing more than to be with you right now, either here or in Russia, but things have been kind of busy the last few days. Kono and Adam are expecting us in Hong Kong in five days to finish this Yakuza business_."

Her head nodded even though he couldn't see her, "I understand that you're needed there, and my job is here right now," Catherine acknowledged as she ran a fingernail against the chocolate box's plastic seal. "It's just… every day here has reinforced my decision to leave the Navy and long overseas assignments behind. I keep telling myself it's only one more week and then I can be curled up in my own bed again, with you. And I'm never doing this again, local assignments only for me from now on."

"_Maybe I should let you go before you get even more homesick_."

"I do have to be up early tomorrow," Catherine noted. She'd opened the box but set it aside realizing she didn't need to add chocolate to the list of things keeping her awake. "Lenore Silva, the Brazilian ambassador to the US we've been guarding, is such a sweet lady. We got talking the other day and her twelve-year-old daughter takes figure skating lessons back in D.C., so I happened to mention skating when I was younger. Anyhow, the ambassador managed to get us all tickets to the Pairs long program tomorrow morning."

"_That was incredibly nice of her_."

"Yep, the job does have its perks. I've seen both Scott Hamilton and Brian Boitano eating breakfast in our hotel restaurant this past week and felt rather star struck," she admitted.

"_I'm glad you're having some fun, and I guess I really should let you go and get some sleep_."

She clutched the phone a little tighter, "Please don't, not yet. How are you? How's your shoulder feeling?"

"_It's pretty much back to normal. You know I'm a quick healer. Don't tell mother-hen Chin, but I've been lifting some weights again_."

"I won't tell," she replied in a sleepy voice, eyes feeling droopy again.

"_Catherine…_" there was a long pause after he spoke her name and she wasn't sure what was on his mind, though she prayed it was nothing bad. "_Marry me?_"

Her heart raced, eyes wide again as she stared at the phone for a second, unable to make sense of what she thought she'd just heard. "Did you…" Catherine wondered if maybe she'd fallen asleep and was having a strange dream. "Did you just ask me to marry you over the phone?"

"_I did,_" his voice sounded very real to her ears.

And the disappointment in his words was evident. "Steve, I…" she realized that neither of them had brought the topic up after Danny's slip about the ring search. They'd been a little too busy with the bigger topic of his lie about the stalker at the time. "We've talked about marriage before," Catherine finally managed a few coherent words.

"_Briefly, yes. And I remember you said you didn't think you ever wanted to get married, so I'm not sure why that just came out… your answer is still no?_"

"No," Catherine swallowed. "I mean, I'm not saying no," she stumbled over what she'd meant to be a clarification, "I'm saying I think we should talk about it some more when I get home," she offered, knowing it was inevitable, "A lot more."

"_That's better than no_."

She could hear the sudden lightness in his voice and it made her miss him even more. "Steve, I'm sorry if that wasn't…"

"_Catherine, no, you don't have anything to apologize for. Didn't we make that agreement, to stop apologizing so much? I jumped the gun. After wanting to ask you for so long and after the way you forgave me before you left I just got a bit ahead of myself. But you're right. We do need to talk about it more. And the last thing I want is for it to turn into me pressuring you. I want you to be ready, even if that means we don't get married until we're ninety._"

"Really?" she was the one suddenly feeling undeserving of him in her life.

"_Yes, really... you're worth waiting for, Cath_."

000

"I'm sorry… could you say that again for me?" Danny prodded.

Steve sighed as he fiddled with the touchscreen remote control on the surface computer. It controlled all of the monitors, either individually or simultaneously and he was currently using it to channel surf at work, checking for any local news stories that might yield a case. Only a few hours ago Steve had told Catherine about his busy last two weeks, yet after months of planning and preparation for Kono and Adam's strike against the Yakuza, they were experiencing a strange lull on Valentine's Day.

He glanced over at Danny again, seeing the expectant look on his partner's face. "I asked Catherine to marry me and she turned me down, sort of," Steve repeated.

"And why did you choose that particular moment to ask her… over the phone?" Danny tried not to laugh.

"Because I was missing her and she was missing me, and it _is_ Valentine's Day," Steve sighed, "I got carried away."

Unable to hold back any longer, Danny snickered. "I can't believe you, of all people, are actually lovesick. It's nice to know you're human after all, though. You get nervous and blurt out stupid stuff just like the rest of us non-Super SEALs. It makes me feel better. I mean… don't get me wrong, what guy wouldn't want to try that move? A phone proposal has got to be a lot less nerve wracking than doing it in person."

"That's nice, Danny. You're making fun of me?" Steve asked. "You know how many guys I overheard asking their girlfriends to marry them over the phone or over a Skype session when I was stationed overseas? Some of those same guys watched their kids be born from half way around the world, only got to say I love you or Merry Christmas to a computer screen image of their loved ones. They had to make the most of every moment, even if it was over a phone call."

Danny's smile faded a little as he leaned against the surface table. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Steve replied, not meaning to get so worked up about it. He switched channels again as he rocked on his heels. "Come on. We've got to have some sort of case on this island… armed robbery, shoplifting, cat up a tree… anything?" he willed the TV to produce a crime from thin air.

"Nope, sorry," Danny responded. "Apparently criminals are romantics and take Valentine's Day off."

"I have some news you're not going to like," Chin announced as he joined them.

Steve frowned. "Why do the words, news you're not going to like, come out of your mouth a lot?"

Chin shook his head as he inserted a USB drive and took control of the table away from Steve. He glared at the man for opening way more files than necessary for a simple channel surfing operation. Finally he pulled an image up on the main screen. It revealed a large building, nondescript, mostly concrete with barely any windows. A low wire fence surrounded the structure and perimeter. And there was a jeep-type vehicle parked out front. "Wo Fat has been released to this minimum security facility in Shanghai."

"When, today?" Steve stood up straight, taking notice of the vehicle and the figure of a man in the back that appeared to be Wo Fat. "I thought they'd pushed it back again."

"All the CIA channels I've been monitoring maintain that Wo Fat is due to be released next week. But he's actually been in Shanghai for the last three days. They kept it extremely quiet, but I have a reliable source that sent me this picture. That same source also claims Wo Fat could be released within a year if he gives up more secrets," Chin reported.

Steve's fingers balled into fists at his side, still staring at the slightly grainy image of his greatest foe. "So a global threat, sociopath, who sells weapons and God only knows what else to our enemies - the man who ordered my father's death and has been gunning for my mother for twenty some years - is essentially free again," Steve shook his head in dismay. "Oh, and my mother gave Wo Fat some sort of information a year ago that may or may not be helping him, and of course she's off galloping the globe. Then there's Kono and Adam hiding out and planning a major strike against the Yakuza."

He exhaled slowly. "I'm actually glad Catherine is away from all of this right now. At least we haven't had any more pictures or notes show up this past month and a half."

"Seriously, you're happy she's in Russia?" Danny commented, "In a very cold place where people probably like to cuddle to stay warn, with a man she once had a relationship."

"They didn't have a relationship so much as a…" Steve shook off that thought. "You know what, it doesn't even matter to me anymore what she and Billy Harrington used to be. They're friends and business partners right now, nothing more. And she agreed to have a conversation with me about getting married, Danny. So even if she's not wearing a ring yet that means more to me than her working with Harrington."

"A lot of women wear rings. That doesn't stop men from going after them… or them from going after other men," Danny pointed out.

Chin tried to stifle a chuckle as he just watched the two, but Steve shook his head in outright annoyance, "Could you be a little more doom and gloom right now?"

"Sorry," Danny held his hands up, realizing he was being rather pessimistic about the topic. "Ever since Gabby and I broke things off I find myself thinking about Rachel more often, which is completely ridiculous because the two of us were just... it still stings when I think of what could've been that second time around and…" he shrugged, not wanting to dwell on it any further. "I really hate this holiday," he grumbled, eyeing Steve, "What are your plans for Valentine's Day?

"You do remember the part where Catherine is still in Russia," Steve noted.

"Yep," Danny grinned. "I was just hoping to make someone else feel as annoyed as I am about this lame non-holiday."

"Sorry, Danny," Steve replied. "Afraid I can't sympathize with you right now. I'm not even going to let this Wo Fat situation bring me down today. Catherine's willingness to talk about marriage is more than I could've hoped for. And she's probably about as safe as she could possibly be at the Olympic Games in Russia. With all those officials and athletes, security there is top-notch. Who'd be stupid enough to try anything there?"

Danny swallowed as he saw Chin motion for his attention. "Uh, Steve…" the detective immediately noticed what Chin was pointing at.

Steve followed their eyes to the far screen where he'd stopped on CNN a few minutes ago.

His relatively good mood plummeted as soon as he noticed the breaking news story headline scrolling across the screen.

000

She pushed the door buzzer and waited. When he didn't answer, Catherine pushed it three more times before finally trying his cell phone again.

Within a few seconds she could hear a phone ringing from inside the hotel room. Catherine frowned at the closed door. She ended the call and pulled out her hotel key card. Due to their security clearances, and the fact that most of the people housed in the hotel were under their security purview, they had access to almost every room in the hotel in case of an emergency. Catherine opened his door and stepped inside, cautiously taking a look around. "Billy?" she called out. "Are you in here, or did you just forget your phone?"

Catherine spotted his cell on the small table beside his bed.

The sound of running water caught her attention and she edged toward the bathroom. "Billy, you in there?" she asked but received no answer.

"If you're naked I suggest you grab a robe," Catherine gently warned. "I'm coming in," she only paused a moment before following through. The bathroom was warm and steamy, shower water running full-blast. When she noticed the shower curtain wide open and Billy not in it, Catherine turned it off. She turned, glanced around, and could see feet sticking out from behind the wall that partially hid the toilet area.

"Billy?" she dropped to her knees beside him. He was sitting with his back against the tile wall, slightly slumped over to one side, a white bathrobe on. Catherine noticed a trickle of blood running down his forehead and some along his bottom lip. "Why didn't you answer me?"

"Embarrassed… I slipped," he closed his eyes.

She could see pain radiating across his face. "So I noticed," Catherine tried to access the seriousness of his injury. "What are you, an old man slipping in the shower?" she did her best to lighten the mood. "Cut on your forehead doesn't look deep, shouldn't need stitches. Think you've got a concussion?"

"No… it was silly. I tripped over a towel and…" Billy got to his feet, but he instantly faltered, leaning heavily against the wall.

"Do you feel dizzy?" she went to his side.

He stood up straighter and made a small attempt to shake his head. "I'm fine," Billy took a single step and swayed again.

Catherine hooked an arm around his waist and sighed as they moved toward the main room. "You're not fine." Catherine wondered why she always seemed to be surrounded by pig-headed military men who never wanted to admit they were hurt. "Let's get you into bed," she caught a small smile on his face and rolled her eyes. "That was not a proposition."

"Too bad," Billy lamented.

She helped him get settled in bed and regarded him for a moment. "I'll grab you some water," Catherine went back to the bathroom, found a plastic cup and filled it. She was about to head back into the room when she noticed something on the counter. Catherine picked up the prescription bottle and carefully regarded the label. She read the words several times over, but couldn't quite make sense of their possible implication.

"You should go, Catherine," Billy said when she returned and handed him the water glass. "I know you've been looking forward to the figure skating event this morning. I'll call agent Darren in to help you run security for Silva and her family," he offered. "I feel foolish enough about tripping in the bathroom, I really don't need you hovering around," he smiled.

"Are you okay, Billy?" Catherine asked, looking him in the eye.

He held her gaze, "Actually, I'm better than I have been in a while. Did I tell you An came to San Francisco just after the New Year?" he watched Catherine shake her head. "I felt so guilty over the date that we'd made and I forgot about. The first day she was in San Francisco I asked her to marry me."

Catherine was more than a little surprised by that news, "Billy, you've barely known her for six months."

"Not everyone is like you and Steve," his words came out ruder than he'd anticipated. "I didn't mean that as a bad thing," Billy sighed. "For the two of you, taking things slow seems to work. But I know how very short life is, Catherine. Shorter than we ever realize," he stated. "An said yes to my proposal and I gave her my mother's wedding ring," Billy smiled. "I don't care if it's too soon, or if we don't work out. Even if we only last a year or a few months… what the hell," he shrugged.

She knew him well enough to know such a carefree attitude wasn't normal; at least it never had been before. Catherine was more than a little concerned about her friend. "Billy, what's going on with you? I know losing Marty was a huge blow last year, but now you want to marry a woman you barely know."

"Unless you want to marry me," he interrupted.

Her mouth hung open and she clutched the bottle of pills she'd stashed in the left pocket of her bulky parka. "Billy, what's going on?" she repeated her question.

"I just want to know what it's like to be married…" he trailed off, looking out the window. A spectacular view of the Black Sea shimmering under a dome of winter sunshine stared back at him. "I want to live my life, Catherine. I don't need Marty's money because I want to work. I want to feel like I've accomplished something in life, made a difference. And I want to know what it's like to be in love, to marry… I want to enjoy all of that."

"Billy," her voice croaked with emotion as she pulled the pills free from her pocket and revealed the bottle to him. "There's something you're still not telling me and I want you to be honest with me this time. No more talking in circles like you've been doing the last few months," she implored. "When I went back into the bathroom I found these," Catherine took a shallow breath. "And there weren't any towels on the floor for you to have tripped over."

"You're right, Catherine," he turned his attention away from the water and faced her, "There's something you should know."

000

"A lone male assailant has been captured after trying to attack an ambassador at the Sochi Winter Olympics in Russia."

Steve, Danny and Chin stood with their eyes glued to the TV as a female reporter spoke.

"Lenore Silva, a Brazilian ambassador to the US, seemed to be the target of the man's attack. Silva was attending the figure skating Pairs program with her family at the Sochi Games this morning when a man dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt and jeans approached them in the nearly packed ice arena. One of the ambassador's bodyguards, an un-named female security agent as of this report, apprehended the man but not without sustaining some sort of stab wound. The female agent was whisked to hospital while the ambassador and her family were immediately taken back to their hotel where other agents have secured them for now."

Danny and Chin could see the worry in Steve's eyes. "Probably wasn't Catherine," Danny offered. "There must be hundreds of security guards at the games, right?"

"Yes, but I know she was planning to be there today at that figure skating performance with the Silva family," Steve tried to keep calm as he turned away from the report on TV. "Chin, can you pull up the tracker program I had installed on Catherine's phone?" he knew the more tech-savvy man would be faster at it.

"She might not even have the phone on her, or it could be off if she's at the hospital," Danny said as Chin pulled the program open.

"The tracker I had installed works independently of the phone's battery. The phone can be off, even uncharged, and we should still get a location on it," Steve relayed. "Someone would have to crush or dismantle that phone for the tracker to go dead."

"Here," Chin zoomed into the area of Sochi, Russia along the east bank of the Black Sea. "I don't see anything," he reported.

"Can you zoom out some more," even as Steve made the request his cell phone rang, "Harrington," he answered the phone and put it on speaker so his friends could listen in. "Billy, what the hell is going on over there?" Steve demanded.

"_Commander, I don't know if you've seen the news reports yet? We've had a hard time trying to keep this story_…"

"I'm watching it right now," Steve interrupted. "Where's Catherine?"

"_She's on a flight to Paris, should be landing soon, if not already_."

Chin zoomed out even further and sure enough he found a small green blip hovering over the central northern part of France.

"Is she okay?" Steve asked, only slightly relieved to see the green dot and to hear from Billy. "The reporter said someone was stabbed, a woman…"

"_Catherine was stabbed in the shoulder."_

That confirmation didn't sit well with Steve, but he continued to listen.

"_She was taken to the hospital for stitches, but another agent guarding her at the hospital assured me her injury wasn't that serious. And Catherine insisted on escorting Silva and her family back to the U.S. We at least managed to get Silva, her family and Catherine out of the country without the news reporters finding out those details_."

Steve calmed down a little more as Danny came up beside him and shoved his cell phone under the man's nose. He saw Catherine's name on Danny's cell. Chin stepped in and took over talking to Billy as Steve grabbed Danny's phone. He answered while walking into his office, "Catherine?"

"_Hey, your phone was busy so I called Danny… at least I thought I had_."

"You did," he let out a sigh at the sound of her voice. "I heard you took a trip to Paris… slacking on the job, huh?" Steve tried to joke.

"_How'd you know?_"

"I just talked to Billy, briefly," Steve revealed. "That's why my phone was busy. Billy's assurance that you were alright didn't do much, though. I'm really glad you called. As soon as I heard the event was connected to the skating, I…"

"_I'm glad Billy was there to call you. Everything happened so quickly earlier, then they rushed me to the hospital and… I wasn't even sure if I had my phone on me until we boarded the flight. Billy got my stuff together and thankfully it was in my bag_…"

Steve could hear the fatigue in her tone. "Billy said you were stabbed in the shoulder?"

"_Yeah, we'll probably have matching scars now_."

"How romantic," he commented, worry still eating away at him.

"_Security cameras show the guy made some sort of shiv from a bit of stainless fencing he pried off an entry gate."_

"Jeez, I bet that was painful," he sympathized.

"_Very. It wasn't exactly smooth or hygienic. I got a tetanus shot, so now both my shoulder and my butt are sore."_

He winced, "Sounds like you haven't had a very good Valentine's weekend."

"_Not so much, no. I did find out a little about the guy who attacked us, apparently he's part of a group called BSWR, Brazilian Soy Worker Rights."_

"Soybeans have rights now?" Steve's brow bunched.

"_No, it's a small movement to stop what some consider unsafe working conditions at several soybean factories in Brazil that export exclusively to American companies. It seems unlikely he traveled all the way to Russia to protest unfair working conditions, but that's our only connection at the moment_."

Steve definitely found the whole thing odd, but focused on Catherine instead. "So where are you headed next?" He mainly wanted to know when she'd be home.

"_I'll be on flight U8517, direct from Paris to Washington D.C. Actually I'm already on that flight. We're sitting on the tarmac in Paris waiting for the weather to clear. There's a bit of a snow storm here. When we do get to D.C., I'd like to make sure Ambassador Silva, and her family, are settled before I catch the next available flight home, hopefully Sunday_."

"Sounds like a good plan," he couldn't help be proud of her for once again seeing her job through to the very end.

"_I know you're gearing up for this Yakuza op in Hong Kong, but do you think you might be able to pick me up at the airport if I do get in on Sunday?_"

"Try to stop me," Steve replied, thrilled at the prospect of seeing her a week earlier than expected.

"_We, uh… there's something we need to talk about when I get home_."

His heart thumped, worried by her tone shift, "Everything okay?" Steve had a feeling she was talking about more than their previous marriage discussion agreement.

"_Not really,_ _it's been a very strange day and Billy, he's… well, we'll talk when I get home. Feels like we're taxiing again so I should probably let you go. My shoulder is really sore and I'm hoping to just sleep the whole way to D.C._"

"I hope so, too," he commiserated, knowing he wasn't going to be able to relax much, maybe not even sleep, until she was home again. "I'll see you soon, pookie-bear," he deliberately used the ridiculous pet name, hoping a bit of levity might downplay the serious ordeal she'd just been through.

"_See you soon, butthead_."

He could hear her soft laughter echo over the line even as the call ended. Steve was glad he could get her to forget things if only for a second, and even if he'd had to break a promise to do it. He exited his office and rejoined his friends. "I told Billy that you were in touch with Catherine," Chin said, "He had to get back to the investigation."

"And I'm guessing by that goofy smile on your face that Catherine is okay?" Danny immediately asked as Steve handed his phone back.

"She sounds tired and a little rattled, but she's safe and on her way home," Steve let out a relieved breath.

Danny clapped his friend on the back, thankful of that news. He glanced at his watch and cringed. "Crap, I didn't realize it was so late. I need to pick up Grace," Danny realized. "She went to a friend's house after school but I was supposed to pick her up at six and now it's nearly seven and I didn't plan anything for dinner…" Danny made his way to the door.

"Hey, Danny," Steve called after his friend. "Why don't you grab Grace and head over to my place tonight? I can pick up a pizza and some drinks on my way home. We can all hang out and watch a movie," he offered. "I'd appreciate the company to take my mind off Catherine not being home. Worrying about her isn't exactly the best way to spend an evening. I should know since that's been my mindset the last few months."

"So you want me to spend Valentine's night with you, my daughter, a pizza and the TV?"

"Trooper will be there, too," Steve noted.

"Oh, in that case it's a date," Danny grinned, "Never have been able to turn down an evening with a cute blonde."

Steve's attention turned to the other man in the office. "How about you, Chin? Want in on this Valentine's pseudo-bachelor party?"

"Actually, gentlemen," Chin sported a demur grin. "I have a date tonight."

The other two exchanged a quick nod of approval. "Will any of Leilani's friends be there?" Danny inquired.

Chin's smile grew a little bigger. "Not this time," he replied.

"Good for you," both Steve and Danny said at the same time, genuinely pleased for their friend.

000

By eight-thirty they'd consumed enough pizza and soda to keep them stuffed and wired all night long. The three of them were sprawled on the leather sofa, Grace sitting between her dad and Uncle Steve. Trooper lay curled up on the floor near Steve as the movie played out on the TV across the room. The main actress on screen had just said something about carrying a watermelon when the first really detailed depiction of the movie's title began to play out.

"You sure this _Dirty Dancing_ stuff isn't too risqué for you?" Danny asked his daughter.

"It's from the eighties, Danno," Grace chuckled. "Besides, I've seen this before. And I've seen worse."

"Oh, you have, huh? Exactly what sort of movies have your mom and Stan been letting you watch? You ever heard of a movie called _Poltergeist_? That was from the eighties, too. And it still scares the bejesus out of me to think about it," Danny shuttered and could hear Steve's soft laughter at his comment. "You sure you don't want to watch some of the Olympic coverage?" he asked Grace, ignoring his friend. "Aren't they showing more ice skating tonight?"

The girl's eyes turned to Steve. "I'm still too upset about what happened to Catherine," she confessed, having heard the story when her dad picked her up earlier. "I think watching that would just make me worry about her."

Steve leaned over and kissed Grace's forehead. Then he got to his feet, a silly grin on his face, "Who wants cookies shaped like hearts?"

"Are you kidding me? More food? More sugar?" Danny lamented, patting his rather bloated belly. It took him a moment to actually grasp what his partner had just said. "You seriously have heart shaped cookies?" he asked without trying to hide his disbelief.

"I bought them," Steve shrugged, already half way to the kitchen door. "Not like I whipped up a batch during my free time," he said before disappearing into the kitchen.

"I hate to be the one to have to tell you this, monkey, but your Uncle Steve is one seriously lovesick puppy," Danny relayed the news to his daughter in a serious tone. "Never thought I'd see the day, but he's definitely gone over the edge."

Grace giggled as she continued to watch the movie.

Steve returned from the kitchen a few minutes later with a plate of cookies, but his ear was attached to his cell phone. "Yeah, I got it," he said to the person on the other end, looking to Danny with a flash of disappointment. "Thanks for letting us know, Duke. We'll handle it from here, and hopefully bring our guy in to you later tonight," Steve ended the call with a regretful sigh. "HPD just got a tip from a man at a pawn shop across town. Apparently he gave them a description of someone trying to sell what he thought was stolen goods. His report sounds like our jewelry thief's partner, Marcus Bellows. I told Duke we'd go talk to him tonight."

"Danno, no," Grace complained as she grabbed a cookie off the plate, knowing exactly what all of that meant for their evening.

"Sorry, monkey," Danny got to his feet and motioned for her to get up. "I'll have to drop you at your mom's."

Remembering what Catherine had once told her about her dad's job being important and having to enjoy what little time they did get to spend together, Grace didn't protest any further. She dutifully grabbed her bag by the door while Danny shut the movie off and Steve hid the cookies from Trooper. "I can't wait till Aunty Catherine gets back. She promised me an eighties movie marathon, _Sixteen Candles_, _The Breakfast Club_… and she'd never allow any interruptions," the girl obediently followed Steve and her dad out to the car.

After dropping Grace off, Danny and Steve arrived at the pawn shop. The place was lit with nearly two dozen super bright florescent tubes that caused everything to practically glow a nasty shade of neon yellow. There were no dark corners for anyone to try and sneak a small trinket into their pocket. "Was he armed?" Steve asked first off.

"Not sure, could've been. Dude was real sketch, like shaking and everything, probably high on something," a middle aged man stood against a backdrop of old stereos, DVD players and karaoke machines. He was stout with a salt and pepper beard that touched his chest. "The jewelry he was trying to hock was seriously sparkly, had to be the real deal, diamonds and gold. He had a little of everything. I don't touch new stuff, too much likelihood it was stolen," he said.

"You know any place that might take his stuff?" Danny asked.

Steve watched the man's eyes roam the store in avoidance of their question. "You told him something, didn't you? Where's he headed?"

"There's this old lady runs an antique shop with her husband, they do a killer good business with tourists," the shop owner finally revealed. "She's pretty feeble, though, been known to buy stuff that she probably shouldn't, real and fake, new or old. I sent your boy there, but I told him not to show if the old man is there. That old cat is seriously wrinkled but totally with it," the man tapped the side of his head. "He's been trying to crack down on the guys using his wife. I haven't sent anyone their way in months, maybe even a year."

"So you sent this guy over to take advantage of a little old lady?" Danny scoffed. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"We all gotta make a living, man," the shop owner shrugged. "Besides, I called HPD, didn't I? Done my good citizen gig."

"You have an address?" Steve didn't care about the man's attitude, only the case.

The antique store turned out to only be a few blocks west from the pawn shop. The store's interior lights were still on when Steve and Danny arrived at nine-thirty. A plain paper sign with sharpie marker words was taped in the window, advertising that the store stayed open until six every night. But a special pink-paper sign was affixed beside it, specifically stating that they'd be open until ten o'clock the night of Friday the 14th, Valentine's Day, "For special gift needs," Steve read the line beneath the time.

Danny gazed at the display window. "Because nothing says romance like a rusty old tractor seat. Who even buys something like that?"

Steve opened the door and a gentle tinkle of bells chimed. The interior held a musty smell with hints of apple-cinnamon potpourri. "Bellows could be desperate enough not to care if only the male owner is available…" Steve trailed off, spotting a slight, gray-haired man behind a glass display counter. "Danny…"

"I see him," Danny and Steve pulled their weapons at the same time and aimed as they rounded the corner.

Standing next to the old man was Marcus Bellows, a shiny silver gun pressed against the store owner's neck. "Good evening, gentlemen," the proprietor greeted them cordially over the soft hum of a muted TV behind the counter. "I was just trying to explain to this young man here that I do not keep very much cash on the premises, not since my dear, yet overly trusting, wife passed away six months ago. But our friend doesn't seem interesting in listening to reason."

"There's no way out for you this time, Bellows," Steve warned, eyeing the man who'd shot him in the shoulder a few weeks ago.

The young man's hands were shaking. "I just want the money, not trouble," Marcus insisted.

He was early twenties with shockingly blonde hair and a dark tan, the same as his robbery partner Malcolm. Steve and his team had figured out the two young men were brothers, abandoned to foster care at a young age. They'd spent most of their teenaged year's pickpocketing money and jewelry off unsuspecting tourists. And when that had become less of a novelty to them they'd graduated to armed robbery and drug dealing. "You won't get any money here," Steve assured the young man. "So how about we do this as easily as possible. You put down that gun and everyone walks out of here on their own two feet."

Marcus gripped the weapon tighter. "Then what, jail?"

"Yes, for a while," Steve answered. "After that you can get clean, start over. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but I know some people who can help if you give them a…"

"No one's ever going to give a damn what happens to me," Marcus spat as he roughly pushed the shop owner to the floor, jumped and slid over the counter.

Steve didn't want to risk shooting while the old man was still near the counter. Instead, he pursued Marcus as the young man headed for a back staircase. "Danny!"

"Go, I've got things here!" Danny shouted as he knelt beside the owner and checked him over.

The antique shop was packed with stuff. Handmade quilts and knitted blankets draped over old oil barrels or wooden drying racks. On his way up the stairs, Steve passed shelves that lined the walls and reached the ceiling, stacked with dusty tattered books, ancient fishing equipment, real metal toys and gardening implements. There were dark wood cabinets adorned with green and orange glassware, milk bottles from the twenties, gas station signs from the fifties and eight track tapes.

Steve felt like he was running through a time capsule as he climbed the creaky wood stairs and entered a room packed with old furniture. Velvet covered settees and worn leather winged back chairs, Persian rugs, antique wooden beds and vanity sets all crowded the space. There were plenty of places to try to hide, but the old building creaked and groaned with every tiny movement. Steve heard Bellows in the far left corner. A vanity mirror betrayed the young man, revealing his back to Steve.

Moving as slowly as possible, Steve managed to sneak up behind Bellows. He caught the man's arm, but Marcus was quick to react. His silver gun swung around and aimed at Steve.

"I'm not going to jail like Malcolm," he swore. "I'm going to make enough money so he and I can get away from here when he gets out. Go somewhere to start over. I'm his big brother, it's my job to take care of him," Marcus squeezed the trigger.

Crouching at the last minute, Steve swept Bellows' legs out from beneath him.

Marcus' gun was dropped and skittered beneath a massive cherry wood four-poster bed. Bellows crawled on his belly to try and retrieve it. Steve caught the guy's right pant leg and struggled to keep hold of him. Marcus kicked out with his free leg and caught Steve in the left shoulder, exactly where he'd been shot by Marcus two weeks ago. With gritted teeth, Steve fought through the pain and got ahold of both legs. He drug Marcus out, grabbed both his hands and pinned them behind the man's back.

"Man, no one else's going to look out for us," Marcus fought against Steve. "I'm all Malcolm has. We're all either of us has."

Steve cuffed the youngster and hefted him to his feet. "Then set a better example for your brother," he offered. "Show him you can change."

Those words caused Marcus to quiet and stop struggling.

After recovering the weapon from beneath the old bed, Steve handed Marcus over to Duke and two other uniformed HPD officers. Then he went to see how Danny and the shop owner were doing. Danny was still with the man who seemed to be uninjured and in a surprisingly lively mood. "Boys, I haven't seen action like that since I was a much younger man working as a beat cop on the streets of Chicago." He smiled to see Steve was okay. "My name is Sandor Fileas, but you may call me Sam. I thank you for your service, sir."

Steve exchanged a curious glance with Danny, but he shook the man's hand. "Commander Steve McGarrett," he said. "I'm glad you're okay. You were a cop?"

"Retired about twenty-five years, after which my wife and I moved here to try something completely different," Sam grinned as he noticed Steve's gaze dip a little, seeming to catch on something inside the glass case where they all remained huddled. "If there's something there you'd like to see closer…" Sam offered.

"Oh," Steve looked up. "Just admiring that ring," he pointed.

Sam's eyes widened with approval. "This one here," he opened the cabinet and pulled free a small green velvet box. "Don't let this cheap dime store box fool you, son," Sam held the ring out for Steve. "Go ahead, take a closer look," the older man insisted, handing it over. "That is a classic English carved ring dating from the Victorian period, 1889 to be exact. All handcrafted, completely original and one-of-a-kind. 18 karat rose gold. A strikingly rich royal-blue sapphire flanked on each side by mine-cut diamonds. The sides and shoulders are beautifully adorned with elegant scrollwork. And the three gemstones are dotted by tiny rose-cut diamonds on the corners," Sam explained.

"You don't see craftsmanship like this anymore these days," the store owner noted.

"It's gorgeous," Steve remarked, never seeing a ring quite like it, certainly not in the shop where he'd spent hours looking at dozens of rings, all of them modern and unremarkable. The ring he was holding now seemed subtly intricate. It had character that no new ring could duplicate.

"You have someone in mind for that ring," Sam replied, not posing his words as a question but a statement of fact. "If you're wondering whether it could be used as an engagement ring," the man further ventured a guess, "I assure you that this ring would make a fine engagement gift. Any ring can be used for engagement purposes. There really are no rules governing such things. And it has been said that sapphires are symbolic of faithfulness and truth, worthy traits of a lasting union," Sam smiled. "This ring here was designed one hundred and twenty-five years ago specifically for my grandfather, who was also Sandor Fileas."

"That so?" Steve was suddenly a little wary of the man's tale. "You seem like the type who could weave a good story to make a sale."

"You're an officer of the law, I can understand your skepticism," Sam did his best to appease the man. "Of course I can only give you my word that what I tell you is the truth. My wife was the one prone to telling tales in order to secure tourist's money. But I take you for a local."

Steve nodded and shared a look with Danny, neither of them exactly sure of the man's character. "Hundred and twenty-five years, I take there's a story behind this ring?" Steve asked.

"One of true love and tragedy," Sam's voice grew solemn, but he didn't wait to be prodded any further, "My grandfather came to the United States from Greece. Men from the US Navy brought him to this country as a young boy, told his parents they could give him a better life. The Navy men nicknamed him Sam because it was easier to pronounce, and it stuck. He was educated and well taken care of. And when he was finally eligible, he joined the US Navy, like those men who'd helped him. He wanted to be American through and through, prove that he belonged, work hard and give back to the fine country that had welcomed him in," Sam explained.

"And I'm guessing somewhere in this story he meets a woman," Danny interjected.

"Who's telling this story, son?" Sam winked at Danny, not offended by the interruption. "Yes, of course he met a beautiful young woman. Caroline Hallsey, a gorgeous blonde haired and blue-eyed girl from a very wealthy family. Supposedly her ancestors came over with the Mayflower and made a decent living for themselves as farmers, cattle barons, fur traders and eventually business men. Caroline actually held a job in a library in New York, which her family privately owned. My grandfather stumbled upon it one day and began to visit her as often as he could. Made up stories about wanting to research the history of his non-birth homeland, but she knew why he was really there," Sam smiled slyly. "Inside that library they discovered a mutual love of French poetry and Italian artwork, among other things."

"He asked for her hand in marriage and she agreed, though they kept their plan secret due to her family's dislike of Sandor," he continued. "My grandfather was not daunted by his pursuit of love, but he was deterred due to being shipped out later that year. And in those days boats did not sail as quickly as they do now. He was away for years, but he kept a journal, every entry addressed to Caroline. And when he was in London he had that ring you're holding right there," Sam pointed to Steve. "Forged by a talented jeweler. He had saved every cent for several years in order to get a special ring for Caroline, to prove his richness to her family. Grandfather tied that ring securely to the leather straps that held his journal together. He carried them both everywhere. But on their journey home to the US, my grandfather's ship was sunk in a terrible storm."

"Are you having a go at me?" Steve finally asked. "How is this man your grandfather if he died at sea?"

"I said his ship sunk, I did not say he died," Sam pointed out.

Danny chuckled. "He's right."

"Sorry," Steve acknowledged his mistake, surprised he was actually interested in the story. "What happened to him after the storm?"

"Sandor was rescued by Portuguese fishermen and taken to the island of Madeira in the Azores," the old shop keeper regaled. "He was nursed to health but he didn't remember who he was or where he'd been going during the storm that had capsized his boat. And unfortunately all of the ink on his journal pages had been washed clean. But he still had the ring, and the ring helped guide him home."

"You sure his name wasn't Frodo?" Danny piped up again.

"I'm sure," the man replied, catching the _Lord of the Rings_ reference of his dubious audience. "One friend he made on the island researched and identified the jeweler mark on the ring. They discovered it had come from England. Those island fishermen had next to nothing but they managed to get my grandfather back to England. The jeweler remembered him. And Sandor Fileas eventually made his way back to the United States on a Navy vessel. Of course by the time he finally returned home, fifteen years had passed."

Steve sighed. "Makes an eighteen month deployment seem easy," he remarked.

"Caroline Hallsey was thirty-three by then, an old woman in those days, at least for one to remain unmarried. But she had done just that, her heart settling for none other than her true love who'd been lost at sea," Sam recalled. "It took nearly ten more years before my grandfather's memories resurfaced. He'd retired from Naval service and had moved west a short distance, settling in Chicago. He didn't know at that time but Caroline had moved to the same area to be with her widowed sister and three nieces."

"And she still hadn't married at forty-three?" Danny asked, finding himself engrossed by the story.

Sam shook his head. "She'd been considered an old maid years earlier. Caroline paid little heed to such thinking, though, and she had become a nurse instead. One fateful day, Sandor walked into the clinic where she worked. He'd been injured at the factory where he was working, needed stitches to his forehead. They looked into each other's eyes and even twenty-five years later they were overwhelmed with love. Grandfather Sandor swore that his memories returned in that very moment that he laid eyes on her again. They were married straight away, Caroline wearing the ring he had carried with him all those years. She gave birth to a baby later that year."

"She was a bit old for that, wasn't she?" Steve asked.

The man nodded, "In those days more so than now. Unfortunately she died in childbirth. But the baby boy, my father who was also named Sandor, was perfectly fit and happy. Never had a medical trouble until his death at age 84," Sam recalled. "After Caroline passed, my grandfather wore the ring around his neck on a chain until he took it off a week before his death. He handed it to me and told me the story that I just told you. He didn't remember that he'd told me the story twenty or more times already," he chuckled softly.

"I was married by then and my wife wore a ring I'd bought for her," Sam recalled. "But my grandfather entrusted that ring to me for a reason. I've always believed it was meant for someone special. Surprisingly, no one has shown it any interest. Until you," Sam looked Steve in the eye. "Who is the woman you wish to give this to?" he knowingly asked.

"Her name is Catherine," Steve instantly replied, "But I…"

"Look inside the band," Sam gently interjected.

Feeling an odd kinship with Sam, Steve did as instructed. He spotted a few markings he didn't understand, what he assumed were the jewelers identifying marks. Then he noticed what he guessed Sam had been insistent about. "S+C 1884," he read aloud.

"Sandor and Caroline, the year they met, not the year the ring was made," Sam explained. "Steve and Catherine, you have the same initials," he noted the similarities. "It's fate that you are the first to be interested in this ring."

"I don't believe in fate," Steve placed the ring back in the box, sat in down on the glass counter and slid it over to Sam.

The older man didn't touch the box. "But fate believes in you, Steve McGarrett. It brought you here to the ring."

"Actually, a man trying to fence stolen goods brought me here tonight," Steve resisted.

Sam laughed; a hearty belly laugh that resounded through his spacious store. "You're a stubborn one. I like you," he eyed the ring again. "The sapphire has been called the stone of destiny. You should take the ring and give it to your true love. The ring will assure that the two of you will always come home to one another."

Even as reluctant as he was to believe in Sam's fanciful tale of true love and fate, Steve was tempted by the ring. He was intrigued by the man's words which somewhat echoed Catherine's promise to return home to him. He'd been drawn to the ring, its simple beauty reminding him instantly of Catherine. "It's a family heirloom," Steve's head shook. "I couldn't just buy something like that."

"I don't want you to buy it," Sam replied. "I want you to take it. Call it a gift for saving my life," he said, sliding the box back to Steve.

"That was just me doing my job as usual," Steve insisted.

"My wife, Agatha, and I were not blessed with children," Sam regretfully informed them. "That means I am the end of the Fileas line for my family. There is no one to pass this ring along to. I lost my dear wife recently, and I'm due to turn eighty in a few weeks so my time here is limited. And I am assured the state will seize this property and everything else within the shop when I'm gone. I'd rather the ring go to its rightful owners than to tax collectors."

Realizing how much he really did want the ring, Steve pulled his wallet out. "I'm going to pay you for it. How much is the ring worth?"

"What do you have?" Sam asked.

"Only sixty-five in cash right now, but…"

"I will take your sixty-five as full payment," the older man agreed.

"Sam, are you trying to hustle me?" Steve questioned the nearly eighty-year-old man, "You know I'm going to have this ring checked out by someone I trust. And if it's anything other than a Victorian period rose gold and sapphire ring as you've led me to believe, I'll be back here for my sixty-five bucks."

The man nodded. "I know we have only just met, Commander McGarrett, but I would expect no less from you."

Realizing he may have met his match when it came to stubbornness, Steve eyed the ring again. "If this ring is really a hundred and twenty-five years old, handcrafted and original… it would be worth a couple thousand, right, at least?"

"I will take your sixty-five dollars for it," Sam repeated, "But only that much, and only because I see you are the type of man who will not just take something. You are a proud man much the same as I am," he smiled.

Steve sighed in defeat and handed over the money, pretty well assured that the older man was in no way trying to con him. In fact, he could see how happy his decision made Sandor; the man's smile reflecting a kind of pleasure only derived from an ultimate feeling of graciousness. As he put away his wallet and picked up the ring box again, Steve shot Danny a warning look. "You have to swear to me that you'll never tell Catherine I only paid sixty-five dollars for this ring."

Danny chuckled as he nodded. "I swear," he agreed, happy that his friend finally seemed to be on the right track. But the jovial mood in the antique store was dampened when Danny noticed the TV news program that was playing behind Sandor. "Can you turn that up?" he asked the shop owner.

All three men turned eyes toward the TV as Sam raised the volume. They watched silently as a CNN news reporter gravely divulged information on another breaking story.

"For those just joining our broadcast, U.S. bound flight U8517 which left Paris at 9am local time has crashed into the North Atlantic Ocean while in route to Washington D.C. It is believed that Brazilian Ambassador Lenore Silva, the woman who was the target of an attack earlier today at the Winter Olympic Games, was aboard this flight with her family; husband and two young children. Initial reports have indicated there was some sort of large explosion, and witnesses on a nearby cruise ship claim the plane was broken in half and on fire as it made impact into the ocean roughly five hundred miles off the Eastern coast of the United States."

"All we have to go on at this point is purely speculation, but some are saying this could be part of a larger scale terrorist attack. Others believe it was most likely an isolated incident, something to do with the de-icing of the craft in Paris. Of course we here at CNN headquarters will keep you alerted on all the latest details as we receive them. However, at this point, whether it was an act of terrorism or not, it seems unlikely that anyone aboard flight U8517 could've survived what we've been hearing described as a massive explosion and two burning halves of the aircraft crashing into the Atlantic Ocean."

While the reporter began to rehash the few details again, Steve looked down at the ring in his hand and wondered if it was cursed.

* * *

**To be continued…**


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Hawaii Five-0_.

**I'm sorry I haven't been able to post new parts as often as some would like. I honestly didn't think this part would take so long. Writing is my favorite hobby and I have poured a lot of time and effort into this story so far, but occasionally I do need to take breaks. And sometimes those breaks even involve writing other stories so I can return to this one with a clearer head.**

**Thank you very much to those who've been patient.**

* * *

**You Owe Me  
****Part 10**

By  
N. J. Borba

* * *

_He watched her from across the room._

_The expansive hall was lively, bustling with people of all ages dancing and chatting. Two other women were seated with her, but he barely noticed them._

_Attending the joint military-civilian ball had been low on his list of desirable activities for a free Saturday night. But somehow his buddy had talked him into going._

_She wore a black dress that was tastefully modest even though it clung to her lithe figure in a manner he found intoxicating. It was adorned only by a simple gold necklace. Her dark hair was pulled up in a fancy twist, a few tendrils hanging loose, framing her face. He watched as the other women she was seated with got up and tried to get her to go along with them. Her head shook as she shooed they away with a slightly annoyed look. Just as her hand reached for the bowl of mixed nuts on the table, he decided to make his move._

"_You know those things are fattening," he remarked, standing beside the table._

_Her head turned and she glanced upward. She immediately noticed his dress blues and her eyes rolled. But a small smile also crept across her face as she admired the way he stood, arms at ease and a lopsided grin that complimented his blue-gray eyes. "Nuts tend to get a bad rap," she replied. "They contain essential vitamins, beneficial fatty acids and they're high in protein. Such as this walnut right here," she popped it into her mouth and chewed unabashedly._

"_Sure," he nodded, "I just wouldn't want you to ruin your gorgeous…" his eyes made no attempt to hide the admiring glance they made up and down her body._

_She tossed a nut at him, which bounced off a shiny button on his uniform._

"_Wow," he chuckled, "Tossing walnuts at me, very classy."_

"_That was an almond."_

"_I stand corrected," he acknowledged, mesmerized by her brown eyes, "I'm leaning so much about nuts tonight."_

"_You know, I'm not the one who showed up here in a fancy uniform with a funny little… what do you call that thing on your head," she waved a hand at his cap. "I can only assume you spent so much attention to detail tonight in order to woo some poor, unsuspecting female. Probably with the intent of getting laid," she retorted._

"_This gathering happens to partially be a military ball," he countered, pointing a finger over his shoulder to indicate their location. "And this right here," he pulled his hat off. "This is referred to as a cover, part of my Navy uniform. All of which has significant meaning. And I can only assume you're here tonight to troll for a good looking sailor. Why else would you be here in a black dress that is… well, it's obvious that your prickly nature is the reason you're sitting here all alone eating fattening walnuts and almonds."_

"_For your information, every morning I do fifty push-ups, two hundred sit-ups and run five miles. And at night I ride a stationary bike for an hour before bed."_

"_Do you sleep well?" he asked._

"_Excuse me?" she was more than a little confused, and slightly put off by his behavior._

"_Do you sleep well?" his question was repeated._

"_Well… no… not always," she admitted._

_He nodded, "I kind of figured. It's probably all that exercise, the strenuous activity before bedtime. I remember reading somewhere that it can actually be a bad thing. It gets you all worked up, heart racing… makes it hard to fall asleep."_

"_Really?" she frowned. "Did you read that in a magazine? I've heard they have articles in Playboy," her frown began to fade as she teased him. "It's an interesting theory, though, truly. But tell me this then, why do I always sleep so blissfully after sex?"_

"_Uh," he swallowed. "Well…"_

"_Okay, I have to admit you are kind of cute when you blush," she stated._

"_No, no… I do not blush. This is not… Navy SEALs do not blush."_

"_Sure you don't," she chuckled softly._

_His head shook as he exhaled, more than a little flustered by her, which was not the norm for him when dealing with women. "Look, maybe I started off on the wrong foot. I can admit that," his right hand extended. "I'm Steve McGarrett," he introduced himself. "Lt. Commander in the U.S. Navy."_

_She grinned a little bolder. "I already figured out the McGarrett part," one hand gently brushed against his, the other one pointed to his nameplate._

"_Right," Steve nodded. "It's on the uniform." He let his fingers caress the soft flesh of her palm. "Do you have a name?"_

"_Catherine Rollins," she finally revealed. "But you may refer to me as Lieutenant."_

_He dropped her hand, his mouth hanging open for a moment. "You… uh… Lieutenant?"_

"_Navy," she grinned, enjoying the way he'd stuttered._

"_You're out of uniform," Steve said._

_Her eyes rolled. "Maybe you were off on some classified SEAL mission when the memo was sent out, but since this is not a typical military affair, the Admiral gave us special dispensation so we could wear a pretty dress if we wanted," Catherine relayed._

"_Shoot, I left all my pretty dresses back home," he quipped. When Catherine smiled Steve knew it was something he hoped to see again many times._

"_Your dress blues aren't so bad," she remarked. "They… fit you well."_

"_Not so bad? Fit well?"_

"_Of course I'm sure I'll be getting out of this dress before too long," she added, trying not to laugh as his tongue nearly flopped out of his mouth. "You know, because of the nuts," she watched his jaw completely drop. "I was referring to your comment about me getting fat, therefore the dress not fitting anymore."_

_He gulped._

"_Can't imagine what you had in mind," she chuckled._

_Steve knew at that moment he had to find a way to spend more time with her. It wasn't every day that a woman could render him speechless. In fact, it had happened exactly never before. "How about a dance?" he proposed._

"_I don't think so," she instantly turned him down._

"_Come on, what's wrong?" Steve prodded. "You afraid to dance with a Navy man? Let me guess, you made some silly promise to yourself to never get entangled with a guy in uniform, afraid it will be too messy. Afraid of the fraternization rules. Or, maybe… maybe you're just worried you might actually have a good time."_

_Her head shook. "Doubtful."_

"_That was kinda harsh," he smiled as he said it, taking her dubiousness as a challenge. "Okay, you had your fun with me. You already knew my hat was called a cover, and you've watched me squirm. Now dance with me, just one dance. And when it's over, if you feel absolutely nothing… we both walk away."_

"_And if I feel something?" she swallowed nervously._

_He shrugged. "I guess we keep dancing."_

_Catherine wiped her hands on a cocktail napkin and stood, "You're on, sailor."_

000

"Maybe she wasn't even on the flight," Danny offered as they entered the Palace and took to the stairs.

Steve was pulled from his memories by Danny's comment. He wanted to think like his partner, but he also needed to be realistic. He needed to figure out what was going on without jumping to illogical conclusions. "I spoke to her earlier, Danny. She was on that plane. She gave me the flight number. They were taxiing when I hung up," he relayed. The ring box in the lower left pocket of his cargo pants shifted with each step he took, a constant reminder of how much closer he was to proposing to Catherine.

"You also said Catherine mentioned a delay due to the weather. Maybe they transferred her to another flight. Or maybe," Danny wasn't ready to stop theorizing yet. "Catherine might've given you a wrong flight number on purpose. Billy mentioned they were worried about the news media finding out where they were taking Catherine and the ambassador, right?" he watched Steve nod, "So if she thought anyone was listening to her phone call she might've intentionally tried to throw them off."

That possibility certainly seemed well within Catherine's ingenuity to pull off, but Steve remembered the sound of her voice. He recalled how tired she'd seemed the night before and even more so that morning on the plane. She'd even sounded a little scared. "I don't know, Danny. I'm almost certain she was on that flight."

Both of the HQ glass doors were opened simultaneously, one by each man. They entered the control area and found Chin there.

"I just got back here," Chin Ho said upon their entrance, though he didn't look up, "Pulling up the tracker program now."

"Sorry about your date," Steve sighed as he pressed his palms against the command table.

Chin finally looked up and caught Steve's eye, "Catherine is 'ohana," he simply stated before returning his attention to the screen.

"Don't you need to zoom in and out like before?" Danny asked as he stared at the overall map of the world. The planet had never seemed quite so big to him before as he thought about the very real possibility of Catherine being lost somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.

"No, the only reason I did it earlier is because we were pretty certain where Catherine was," Chin answered as he continued to tap several controls in a repetitive manner. "Right now I have it set to automatically zero in on her tracker's location."

"Why isn't it working?" Steve asked, noticing that his friend kept hitting the same commands over and over. He'd seen the program in action before and knew the image would shift on its own to wherever the pingback came from. "That thing should be able to transmit up in space. Where is it? Where is she, Chin?"

Trying not to let Steve's worry rattle him, Chin attempted a slightly different tactic. When that failed, he sighed in defeat. "I don't know," Chin swallowed. "I checked to make sure I had the right frequency set. It's definitely Catherine's tracker I've got programmed in, but… it's not pinging back," the man informed them in a frustrated tone.

The three of them stood around the map for another ten minutes, willing the thing to shift, to ping, to blink – anything.

"Her tracker was destroyed," Steve finally concluded as he pushed away from the table. He looked to Chin first, Danny second. "Someone knew it was in her phone and they destroyed both of them," his words were matter of fact. "Either that or the crash demolished them."

Danny gulped. "And if it was the first option? What do you mean by someone?"

Steve was grateful to his friend for picking the first option to dwell on. "We need to think about the attack at the ice skating event," he began. "Some guy decides to go after the Brazilian Ambassador because of Brazilian Soy Worker Rights? That seems kinda farfetched," he declared. "So what if this guy wasn't after the ambassador at all? What if he attacked the person he'd been after from the start?"

"Catherine?" Chin and Danny both asked at the same time.

"Exactly," Steve replied. "Those photos of her stopped at the end of the year, right about the time Wo Fat was originally due to be released. Then we had a few weeks grace period, made to lull us into thinking the threats had stopped, over and done. But then this happens, something that seems completely unconnected," he pointed out.

"I guess it's possible," Danny licked his bottom lip, stuck in thought for a moment.

"Of course it's possible. This attack has got Wo Fat written all over it," Steve growled as he stared at the computer, arms crossed.

"Okay, so you're saying Wo Fat took down a plane full of 115 passengers to get to Catherine," Chin sought some clarification.

"No," Steve's head shook, "To get to me."

"He's locked up," Danny put in.

"Do we know that for sure?" Steve eyed Chin, "No offense to your CIA contact but one surveillance photo and we're just supposed to believe his slimy ass is behind bars? What did you find on the Colorado guards, is there any possibility they helped him while he was in lock up there?"

Chin Ho Kelly prided his self on performing a job to the highest degree; not leaving any stone unturned if it was within his power to do so.

He was grateful for the chance to leave the topic of Catherine's tracker behind for a moment. He pulled up a split screen image, one man's photo on either side. "Guy on the left is George Hanson, 42 years old. He's been working as a maximum security guard for eighteen years. Has a wife of twenty-four years. Three kids, one in college and two in high school. The guy works twelve-hour night shifts and spends any free time he has coaching his daughter's basketball team and his son's baseball team."

"So he's clean?" Steve pressed.

"Financials don't show any recent increases, nothing to indicate he's ever taken a bribe," Chin concluded.

Steve nodded toward the screen, "And the other guy?"

"Eugene Vincent," Chin began the second rundown. "He's younger, twenty-nine, served in the Army for ten years after graduating from high school. He took the guard job in Colorado soon after he was discharged from the service. Army record shows model behavior. He married two years ago, has a three-month-old son. Video surveillance I pulled from the last few weeks of Wo Fat's incarceration in Colorado reveal Vincent showing up for the day shift looking about as tired as I imagine any new dad would be. His financials are clean as well."

Chin sighed, "If either of these guys was helping Wo Fat I can't determine how, or that they were paid for it."

"Who else would do this?" Steve couldn't seem to shift his focus from Wo Fat. "Who would blow up this plane and destroy Catherine's tracker in order to get to her?"

"You're assuming again that this was about Catherine," Danny spoke up. "If we go back to the original attack… I still say this is about the ambassador."

Shaking his head, Steve eyed Chin again. "What do we know about the guy who stabbed Catherine?"

"I don't even have a name," he shrugged.

"You have that," Steve pointed to the smaller monitor that was still flashing continuous CNN coverage. An image of the male attacker was being shown on air at the moment.

Chin initiated the screen capture mode and pulled a fairly clean shot of the man from the TV. He speedily loaded the image into their facial recognition program and waited as the main screen began to flash through dozens of photos. "You know our international databank is pretty limited," Chin reminded his partners. "Unless he's a high-priority international criminal, the odds of this guy being…" the program chirped even as Chin spoke the last word. "Fernando Alves," he read the data. "He's got a driver's license issued by the state of California."

"So this guy's not even from Brazil?" Danny was surprised.

"Still could be. But according to this, Fernando has a U.S. address in Merced, California," Chin relayed.

"I don't get it," Steve stared at the image. "What the heck was he doing in Russia claiming to be part of a Brazilian Rights movement?" he glanced at his watch, "I don't have time for this right now. Chin, I need you to dig into this guy's life. And see if you can contact Billy, find out what more he knows, he's probably part of a team questioning the guy," Steve headed to his office with Danny right behind him. "I have a flight to catch," he said without looking up to see Danny watching him.

"Steve, maybe you going to the crash site isn't such a good idea," the detective voiced, having overheard his partner make the arrangements on their way back to HQ.

He spun the dial on a small safe behind his desk, left, right, and left again until it clicked and opened. "I know your opinion, Danny, you already told me," Steve grabbed his passport and stowed his weapon inside the safe. He stood to face his friend. "The USS Harry S. Truman is already at the crash site. I'll be in D.C. within twelve and a half hours and I've arranged for a helicopter to ferry me to the carrier. I need to be there, Danny. I can't sit back and do nothing."

"Then I'm going with you," his partner declared. "I know you arranged for two passengers so…"

"No," Steve knew his friend would go in a heartbeat if he'd let him. "I need you here. Without Kono or me, you and Chin are all Five-0 has got right now. If something comes up here, the island needs you more than I do. Besides, there's someone else I need to take with me."

"Steve," Danny sighed, feeling a bit helpless, "You know we're here for you."

"I know, Danny," Steve nodded. "Thank you."

000

"How you doing?" Steve asked over the headset as he faced the passenger beside him.

"I am not afraid to fly in something like this, if that's what you're asking, commander. We have flown on a helicopter together before," Max relayed in typical Dr. Bergman efficiency. The man looked out at the ocean below them, seeing nothing but a dark rolling sea for miles. "However, a leisurely tour along the Hawaiian coastline in Kamekona's sightseeing helicopter is a bit different than this trip over a much choppier, much colder ocean."

Steve nodded. "Just making sure you know what we're getting in to here," he replied as the Navy Seahawk helicopter dipped and he spotted the aircraft carrier about a mile off.

"How far have we traveled?" Steve asked the pilot.

"Three hundred and seventy-two miles since we left D.C., sir."

"Not exactly the five-hundred miles those reporters mentioned," Steve mumbled mostly to himself as they prepared to set down on the carrier. They exited the helicopter a few minutes later and Steve guided Max away from the aircraft as a refueling team advanced. He watched as the aircraft carrier's executive officer approached them with a young Ensign at his heels. "Commander McGarrett," the senior officer spoke first.

"Captain Marshall," Steve snapped to attention and saluted, even though he wasn't in uniform.

The older man saluted back. "At ease," he instructed. "When I saw the name McGarrett my attention was peaked. My older brother, Lucas, served in the Honolulu Police Department with a man named John McGarrett for several years before he retired. Lucas always said McGarrett was the finest leader he'd ever worked with, military or otherwise."

Steve nodded. "He was my father, sir."

"Was?" the XO caught his use of past tense.

"He was killed about four years ago, sir," Steve relayed.

"I'm very sorry to hear that. I also understand that you were granted permission to be here from over my head. In addition to having an exemplary record in the Navy SEAL program, you obviously have connections," Marshall noted. "There was someone aboard flight U8517 that you knew?"

"Yes, sir, retired Navy Lieutenant Catherine Rollins," he replied with as much courtesy as he could muster, hating the way the XO had said the word _knew_ - past tense.

"Rollins?" the XO mulled, "Any relation to a David Rollins?"

"Rear Admiral David Rollins," Steve nodded. "His daughter, sir."

"Damn," Marshall relayed regret over hearing such news. "I served with Rollins in Kuwait many years ago, remember a little girl with big brown eyes in a picture he carried everywhere with him. Couldn't recall the little girl's name, sorry I had to be reminded of it under these circumstances," he shook his head regretfully. "Small world," he muttered.

With as few words as possible, Steve introduced the man beside him. "This is Dr. Bergman, the one I mentioned I'd be bringing along."

"Glad to have you aboard," Marshall aimed his words to Max, "As you may already know, our presence here, including inviting a civilian doctor aboard isn't entirely normal operating procedure for us. But our instructions are to aid the NTSB in any way possible. Our hospital unit is small and basic, but we've set aside a mess hall and wardroom for your use. The first wave of salvage has already been taken there. Ensign Wildman can show you the way," he offered.

Steve nodded for Max to go with the Ensign. "We'll catch up later," he assured the doctor. To the XO he asked, "What do you know?"

"I know that CNN has been broadcasting reports for the last twenty hours that are almost all false," the XO didn't shy away from telling Steve the truth as they walked. "From what we've discovered so far there was no cruise ship within range for eyewitness reports. And, frankly, there's no way flight U8517 was broken in half when it crashed. We've got at least a twenty-mile radius mapped out with wreckage. No pieces bigger than a tail fin. That craft had to have exploded in more than just two halves."

Not the sort of thing Steve had been expecting to hear. "Survivors?" he asked.

The XO halted his step and turned to face Steve, a fierce winter wind blowing across the carrier's deck, "Commander, this has never been a rescue mission - recovery only. We're working with NTSB and CIA to ID as much debris from the wreckage as possible. We've got a database being compiled as I speak, gathering DNA and dental records for all those aboard the flight. The USS Scranton arrived just before you did; they're preparing to dive in twenty. They have a DSV riding piggyback which should be able to gain us full depth to the wreckage that's sunk already," he explained. "Our primary goal at this point is to determine what caused that craft to go down."

"I'd like to be aboard the Scranton when they dive," Steve requested.

"Commander, I know you're still in the reserves but you're here as a favor right now, not in any official capacity. I appreciate that someone you care about was on that flight, but…"

"I'm a Navy SEAL. I have pressure and escape training," Steve interrupted. "I've been on a number of watercraft and other submersible missions. And, yes, this is personal," he finally admitted. "But it's also about getting a job done, and that's what I want to do, Captain. It's why I brought Dr. Bergman here, because he's the best and I trust that he'll make sure everyone aboard that flight gets a fair shot at being identified for their families' sake."

Captain Marshal couldn't help be moved, but he remained firm, "I'm sorry, Commander. I can't allow it."

"Then at least put me in the water, get me on one of the salvage dive teams," he wasn't ready to give up. "I can't just sit on this ship and do nothing, sir," Steve knew he was walking a fine line making such a demand from an executive officer, but desperation was settling in.

The OX was clearly not amused, but he nodded, "Dive team eight is suiting up now, if you hurry you can join them," Captain Marshall finally gave in. "I'll radio the team leader. You'll be under his command, McGarrett. If he sidelines you for any reason, I better not hear that you abused this privilege."

"Understood, sir," Steve snapped off a salute before he jogged away.

000

Almost twelve hours later, Steve stood in front of a laptop monitor rubbing the bridge of his nose.

He'd helped the dive team bring several loads of wreckage aboard the carrier. Just beneath the water's surface he'd been able to suppress his wandering thoughts, focused completely on the single task of collecting salvage. Now, topside again, his worry and fears were starting to eat him up inside. But worst of all, doubts were beginning to creep in. The shear amount of destruction he'd seen scattered along the ocean's surface made his gut tighten and his heart ache.

"Did you find anything more on Fernando Alves?" Steve asked the blurry images of Chin and Danny on his Skype cam. "What about Billy? Have you been in contact with him?"

"_Billy hasn't responded to any of our calls yet," Danny relayed._

"_But I dug up more information on Alves," Chin spoke. "He's thirty-seven, was born in Brazil but gained U.S. citizenship about ten years ago. His older brother's, Martin and Arturo still live in Brazil and they both have ties to the BSWR movement that claimed responsibility for the attack at the Olympics."_

"So he is connected," Steve sighed.

"_I'm not entirely convinced," Chin replied. "He works for a fruit packing company near Merced, California, has a wife and two sons. Pays his taxes, is an active voter and even does a lot of volunteer work. At least he did until this past year. His youngest boy, six-year-old Leo, has a rare form of bone cancer. Medical treatment is sky high. Fernando doesn't have much in the way of benefits, but he does have a fifty-thousand dollar life insurance policy through his company."_

Steve had a feeling he knew where Chin was headed with that train of thought. "Guy is worth more dead than alive. So maybe that's the key to him agreeing to some foolish mission in Russia. His brother's talk him into it, and he figures he'll be killed in the process, which leads to his son getting the life insurance money for treatment." Steve sighed.

"_And there's definitely something to this BSWR movement," Danny added. "BSWR has been very actively seeking better factory rights, and not always in a calm orderly protest sort of way. They've set fires, broken windows. Chin and I also found out that Lenore Silva's main ambassadorial bent has to do with agricultural dealings. She's very vocal in D.C. about being pro-exporting for her country. She wants to foster better export-import conditions between Brazil and the U.S."_

"Then the attack and the crash being about her is the most likely scenario," Steve said the words, but still wasn't entirely convinced. "What about the flight manifest?"

"_Took us a while to gain access, my French is a bit rusty," Chin responded, trying to lighten things up a little. "Danny and I have gone over the departure logs and the airport boarding gate videos," he noted. "All 115 passengers, including the eight crew members, boarded flight U8517."_

"Catherine?"

"_She boarded with everyone else," Danny relayed._

"You have video?"

"_Sending it through now," Chin confirmed._

Steve waited for a moment for the video feed to load. Then he watched as Catherine approached the gate. She stood there for a while, left arm in a sling. He could see how tired she appeared, but Steve also noticed her scanning the area, still very much on duty. Her right hand rested against the shoulder of a young girl, about twelve. A young boy's ticket was scanned and then the girl's. The children were followed by a man, and finally a woman who Steve recognized as the Brazilian ambassador he'd seen on the news.

Catherine watched her charges closely as they entered the sky-bridge. She took one last glance around the area before her ticket was scanned and she followed them.

The video ended with a freeze-frame focused on the back of Catherine's head.

He stared at it for a long time.

"Go back over the footage of all the passengers, look for anyone boarding that appears fidgety or suspicious, specifically anyone traveling alone," Steve instructed. "I want you to get background for everyone on that fight, find out who they are, what they did for a living," he needed to keep calling out orders in order to stop dwelling on Catherine. "I want to know if any of them have a criminal history, heck, I want to know if they've ever defaulted on a student loan."

"_Technically, we have no jurisdiction on this, Steve," Chin remained level-headed even as his friend was clearly grasping at straws._

"It was a U.S.-bound flight departing from Europe, transporting a Brazilian ambassador as well as a former Navy officer. That's more than enough to make this an international incident," Steve pointed out, "NTSB, the Navy, CIA… several agencies are working on this and they'll take note of anything we find if it's significant enough," he insisted.

_Chin and Danny nodded. "Got it," they said before signing off._

000

"_You seemed a little upset when your friends left earlier," Steve remarked._

_He held her close, left hand clasping her right. His right hand against her waist, her left hand resting gently aside his shoulder. Steve could smell her perfume, picking out hints of jasmine and vanilla. He concentrated on the way her palm was pressed against his, her soft fingers curled against his rougher paw. A gentle pulse beat between their hands, connecting them. He wasn't prone to romantic thoughts, but her presence made him feel vulnerable in a manner he'd never experienced._

"_They wanted me to go outside with them to smoke," Catherine replied._

_Steve noticed she seemed a bit uncomfortable with the topic, but he was curious, "And you hate smokers?"_

"_No," her head shook, "I'm trying to quit, which is the reason I was munching on nuts. And, yes, I have gained a pound or two the last few months."_

"_I'm sorry I even mentioned it," Steve immediately felt bad. "Trust me, you look great," he assured her. "So, why did you join the Navy?" Steve asked, trying to quickly switch topics._

"_My dad," she responded._

"_Ah," his head bobbed. "So it was a rebellious thing on your part? Or maybe a punishment on his?"_

_Catherine pulled back a little to look him in the eye. "Contrary to what you may be hoping, I'm not some rebellious bad-girl type. My father happens to be a Navy Captain. He'll likely be up for promotion to Rear Admiral in the very near future," she informed him. "I'm a Navy brat - grew up eating, sleeping and breathing military life. But that's not why I joined. I joined because I wanted to be the same sort of person my dad is, hardworking, loyal, courageous, calm under pressure… and willing to accept any failures."_

_Steve smiled, impressed by her obvious love and dedication to family._

"_How about you? Why'd you join?" She watched his eyes cloud over for a moment, something clearly upsetting in what she'd just asked of him. "Never mind, you don't have…"_

"_I grew up in Hawaii, but after my mom died I was sent to California. Attended the Army and Navy Academy, a boarding school where I didn't know anyone after being top-dog quarterback at Kukui High," Steve found himself letting it all out, words he'd never spoken to another friend aside from his fellow SEAL, Freddie. For some reason he felt comfortable talking to her. "After that, joining some branch of the armed forces seemed like the thing to do. My grandfather died at Pearl Harbor, so I went Navy. To honor his memory."_

_She smiled, touched that he'd been willing to share such a precious memory. "Sorry if I made it seem like I had something against SEALs earlier. I really don't."_

"_We do have a bit of a hot-shot reputation," he freely admitted. "What about you, what's your specialty?"_

"_Intelligence," Catherine let him know._

"_I can see that about you," Steve nodded._

_Her eyes remained solely focused on him as they narrowly missed bumping into another couple on the dance floor, "You don't even know me, Commander."_

_He smiled. "I know you're the prettiest woman in this room, and that you probably hate me for saying that. I also know getting you to dance with me was trickier than any maneuver I learned in SEAL training," Steve concluded. They'd both been too busy talking to realize the music had ended until a new song started. "Technically, the one dance you agreed to is over," Steve said as he stepped away from her. "And your verdict is?"_

"_We only came in on that song about half-way," Catherine shrugged. She hated the way he'd so easily read her, and the way she'd so readily dismissed him as being a big-headed Navy officer. She hated that her years spent in the Navy dealing with chauvinistic men had made her so cynical. "We should probably give ourselves a full song to really make a proper judgment call." She also hated the way he made her heart tighten and her stomach flip-flop._

"_You're in full command of this op, Lieutenant," he smiled, taking her back in his arms as they continued to dance._

000

Steve groaned and stretched.

After forty-eight hours running on no sleep, accompanying three more salvage dive team missions and checking in with both Max, and Five-0 back home, numerous times, the XO had sent him to a private berth with strict instructions to rest. But as Steve stared up at the ceiling panels, counting the metal rivets holding each panel in place, he knew sleep was an unrealistic hope. Even if by some chance sleep took hold, Steve knew it wouldn't help. Catherine kept overtaking every bit of his thoughts.

He swung his legs over the side of the bunk and got to his feet. Steve pulled his boots back on and then glanced at his cell phone.

So far they'd managed to keep Catherine's name out of the media reports, but he knew at some point he might need to contact her parents. Those were calls he planned to put off as long as possible. He needed more information. And he needed to keep clinging to the hope that maybe she hadn't been on the flight. Failing that, maybe she'd somehow survived. Every time he'd tried to close his eyes he'd pictured her drifting at sea, clinging to some piece of the aircraft, keeping herself afloat long enough to be rescued.

A loud clang resounded against his cabin door.

Steve swung the partition open. "Ensign Wildman," he greeted the young man.

"Sir, the XO has requested your presence on the bridge."

Not bothering to ask why, knowing the Ensign probably didn't even know why, Steve clutched his cell phone and followed the young man through the ship up to the island. They arrived on the bridge within a few minutes. It was a compact area, designed for utmost efficiency, as was the case with most of the spaces on an aircraft carrier. Steve couldn't help notice a commemorative wood and metal plaque residing on the wall, bearing a quote from the thirty-third president of the United States.

"_America was not built on fear. America was built on courage, on imagination and an unbeatable determination to do the job at hand."_ – Harry S. Truman.

"Commander McGarrett," Captain Marshall greeted him. "This is Natalie Harris, lead investigator on this case from NTSB," he motioned toward a tall, slim, very pale woman at his left. Steve shook her hand. "And this is CIA agent, Uhila Musa," Marshall introduced the equally tall, but much darker skinned man on his right. Again Steve shook hands. "I don't think we need to tell you that anything you hear or learn in this room over the next few minutes is to be kept strictly confidential," Marshall made himself clear.

Steve nodded. "Understood, sir."

"Dive team four recovered both the cockpit voice recorder and data flight recorder while you were resting," the OX revealed.

Another nod came from Steve, not bothering to tell the man he hadn't slept. He figured that was apparent by his rather disheveled appearance.

Marshall pressed a control on the command table, but it was Harris who spoke, "A preliminary analysis of the data flight recorder reveals that several electrical systems aboard flight U8517 were disrupted simultaneously, causing a sort of cascade effect of malfunctions," the woman explained. "Most of these malfunctions on their own wouldn't raise too many red flags, but half a dozen at once leads us to believe that the aircraft was sabotaged."

Steve couldn't help thinking the exploding plane was already a dead giveaway to her sabotage conclusion. He remained silent.

The captain hit another button. "This is the last bit of chatter we got from the pilots. They were not yet within Dulles air traffic control so New York Oceanic Control Center was still monitoring their passage across the Atlantic."

"_NYOCC, this is U8517. Please be advised we are experiencing some technical glitches of unknown origin."_

"_U8517, NYOCC reading you fine. Can you expand on what sort of glitches?"_

"_Several things, NYOCC - our fuel system gages are fluctuating and cabin pressure keeps dipping. At least according to the readings we're getting up here, but all flight attendants claim they haven't noticed any changes in the main cabin of the aircraft. And…"_

A loud beeping could be heard over the recording, followed by a long stretch of dead air.

"_U8517, we lost you for a few seconds. We're reading a sudden drop in your altitude. Please respond?"_

"_NYOCC, we've just experienced an airlock breach below deck, attempting to compensate by bringing us lower."_

Several minutes of silence followed.

"_NYOCC this is U8517, airlock breach signal has returned to normal function. I don't think anything was actually breached, it's just the…"_

The recording went silent again and stayed that way.

"Is that it?" Steve glared at the command table, willing it to give him something more.

Captain Marshall pressed a few other buttons. "Scranton's DSV recorded these images about three hours ago," he explained, tapping at the screen.

Steve shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing as he watched. The dark ocean water was murky but a bright spotlight on the DVS's camera picked up a distinct piece of airplane hull. It spanned along the length of it, which was only about nine or ten feet. But that was plenty enough to see the striations along the metal hull. "What do you know about explosives, Commander McGarrett?" Musa asked.

"Enough to know that hull was lined with a high density wire explosive, most likely gel applied," Steve sighed. "It was on the outside of the hull? Someone would've seen that."

Musa nodded gravely. "Interpol discovered the bodies of eight ground crew workers at Paris' Charles de Galle airport. They were stuffed into a small utility locker near a secondary runway, all shot at point-blank range. But only six of them had been stripped of their uniforms and security badges."

"So someone managed to infiltrate one of the largest airports in the world?" Steve's thoughts drifted to Wo Fat again as he continued to listen.

"Only minutes after that ground crew was found," Harris picked up, "A separate Interpol team discovered six bodies at a warehouse about two miles from the airport. They were dressed in the missing uniforms, but had Brazilian passports on their person. All six of them were killed by self-inflicted gunshot wounds."

He shook his head. "Martyrs for the cause," Steve realized.

"We've determined that the six posed as the deicing crew assigned to the U8517 aircraft. Surveillance cameras in that area of the airport were reportedly damaged a few days earlier and had yet to be fixed," Musa continued, "Which means their crew had the ability and means to infiltrate."

Harris added, "The type of gel explosive used could've easily been hidden from air traffic control tower operators by the Type IV deicing fluid which is typically dyed green for full coverage visibility. And the fact that it was foggy at the time was a point in their favor. Whoever orchestrated this was smart, ruthless, but also lucky," she concluded.

"They messed with the tech system data, throwing the pilots off the real threat," Steve mused aloud, "Which means someone else had to be close to the craft, probably on board."

Musa regarded Steve, "Fourteen people are dead in Paris as part of this cover-up," he pointed out. "And 115 were killed aboard that flight. It seems unlikely that anyone who might've been involved in this operation was allowed to escape alive, including any culprit aboard the craft."

"All technical systems were almost certainly damaged by a scrambling device planted on the exterior of the aircraft," Harris added, "Probably attached at the same time as the explosives. Such a device, along with the explosives, was likely detonated remotely," she sighed regretfully. "The only small comfort we can take away from this tragedy is that the simultaneous explosions probably meant the passengers never felt a thing."

His eyes aimed at Harris again, then Musa and Marshall. Steve was angry and not afraid to show it. "Is that going to be an official part of your investigation findings?" he asked. "No one felt a thing?" it was hard not to wonder if he'd ever come across as being that cold when dealing with a case. "What about the airlock breach?" Steve reminded them. "We should figure out what sort of boats were in the area at the time of the crash. What if someone had been here waiting for a skydiver?"

"You should already know that policing the ocean isn't that simple," Marshall pointed out. "Planes have to log flight plans, but boats can pretty much come and go as they please. There were no ships in the area when we arrived. It seems unlikely."

"The six men have been identified by Interpol as extremist in the Brazilian Soy Workers Rights movement," Musa noted. "They were after the ambassador and her family as a means to further their cause. Lenore Silva has been very outspoken about her wish for the U.S. to import more crops from Brazil. This was the group's final effort to stop her, and it certainly seems like they succeeded," Harris concluded.

Steve was hearing a lot of seems, unlikely, possibly - but he wasn't happy with the assumptions.

The XO pulled him aside, seeing the defiance growing behind Steve's eyes. "Commander, barring a final NTSB hearing a few weeks from now, this case is closed. And the fact that I allowed you to be privy to information you don't have clearance for," he shot Steve a warning glare, "I suggest you be happy with it."

"Happy?" Steve scoffed, his jaw tense.

Ensign Wildman approached them and stood at attention, waiting to be addressed.

"Ensign?" Marshall asked.

"Commander McGarrett," the young Ensign turned his focus on Steve. "Dr. Bergman is asking to see you."

Steve nodded and immediately followed the man off the bridge; still unsettled by the information he'd just learned, but grateful to distance himself from it. As soon as they arrived at Max's makeshift lab, Ensign Wildman took his leave. "Have you slept yet, Max?" Steve inquired, noticing the dark circles beneath the younger man's eyes.

"Every six to eight hours I sit and eat a small snack, drink half a liter of water and close my eyes for twenty minutes. Then I resume my work," the doctor explained. "So far I've successfully identified thirty-nine remains, matching them to the passenger log via dental records and DNA sampling," he reported.

"Nice work," Steve was actually grateful.

Max's expression softened a little, "Commander, why did you ask me to be here?"

"Crisis response, they needed volunteers," Steve replied. "Your area of medical examination and forensic expertise are a huge asset to this sort of investigation. I also know you get excited about this sort of thing, piecing together the remains of…"

"Please," the doctor stopped him short. "We have worked together for several years now and I know that often times you find me to be rather taciturn while performing my job. I make no argument to the contrary in that regard. I have learned to do my job with exact proficiency. I deal with the dead on a daily basis and it can lead to me not dealing with the living exceptionally well. However, I do this job to help families find peace," Max insisted.

Steve nodded; his hands balled into fists at his side, and the engagement ring box still a heavy lump in his cargo pants' pocket.

"Not being an expert in reading human emotion aside, I do believe I have come to know you rather well, commander," Max insisted. "And I know when people are lying to me. So please… Steve," his voice grew reflective as he used the man's first name. "I would appreciate knowing why you asked me here?"

"Because I trust you, Max," the words were spoken with absolute conviction. "And if…" Steve swallowed. "I need you to be the one to tell me the truth. I'll believe it coming from you."

Max glanced down and picked up a file off the table, "ID sample number thirty-nine, DNA from salvage retrieval number…" he looked up at Steve with a stricken face. "A recent DNA sample taken from human tissue found among the flight wreckage was positively identified as that matching a sample in Navy medical records for a Lieutenant Catherine Rollins."

Steve's face remained schooled, fingernails digging into his palms, "What… what sort of human tissue?"

The doctor sighed regretfully as he placed the file on the table and looked up at Steve again. "The supplies for our research and findings down here are extremely limited, which has led to us using various plastic zip bags for DNA evidence," he relayed, falling back on the comfort of his clinical efficiency to curb emotions. "Anything larger is left on the various exam tables set up in the improvised hospital wing," Max concluded.

For some reason Steve hadn't noticed them before, the rows of neatly aligned plastic bags on the table behind Max.

The doctor retrieved one of them and placed it gently on the table in front of Steve. With barely controlled emotions, Steve forced himself to glance down at the bag. It's clear plastic surface was marked by a few symbols he couldn't decipher, but a name he knew all too well stared back at him. He kept his emotions in check as he allowed his eyes to focus past the plastic. Steve stared at the item for just a brief moment before he looked to the doctor again.

They stood there for several minutes, the bag between them, until Steve finally said the only thing that seemed sufficient. "Thank you, Max."

He made an about-face turn and exited the med lab.

000

_Steve enjoyed the softness of her cheek as it gently rested against his._

_He vaguely registered the song that was playing and he smiled to hear her softly singing along with the lyrics. "You know this one?" Steve asked. "Chicago, isn't it?"_

_Catherine nodded, "I used to listen to all sorts of Chicago hits as a little girl. They're one of my mom's favorite bands. And when my dad was away, which was most of the time, I worried about him a lot. My mom knew that, even though she and he… well, she'd play her favorite Chicago songs for me and we'd dance around our kitchen. The kitchen's never stayed the same from one year to the next, but my mom was always there for me. And so was Chicago. Their songs made me feel less scared."_

_She pulled away from him when the music stopped, though still kept their handhold. Catherine was both surprised and a little nervous about having just told him all of that. "Was that the end of our full song?"_

"_Not exactly," he grinned. "We've been dancing for about three or four songs past the full one you agreed to," Steve let her know._

"_Really?"_

"_I wouldn't lie about something like that," he assured her. "Dancing really isn't my thing," Steve confessed, "My buddy, Freddie, begged me to tag along with him tonight. And he did mention there'd be women, which I'll admit is what drew me. Less than ten minutes in, Freddie took off with some girl named Kelly," he explained. "That's when you walked into my life, or… sort of sat down in it, I guess," Steve regarded her for a moment, "So, are you ready to stop dancing?"_

_He noticed the way her hold tightened a little, the soft squeeze of her fingers against his shoulder and the gentle press of her palm against his remained steady._

_She shrugged. "I guess we could dance a little longer."_

000

"Catherine's mother mentioned you called from the carrier," Danny stood across from his friend, still not sure how to comfort him.

Danny and Chin had met Steve and Max at the airport, but the ride to Max's place and further on to HQ had been completely quiet.

"I didn't want anyone else telling them about what happened," Steve replied with a steady voice and cold demeanor. "I tried to reach Rear Admiral Rollins first, but I couldn't get through. He was out in the field, still running training operations. So I spoke with Mrs. Jacobson… I spoke to Elizabeth," he corrected, remembering the sweet sound of her mother's voice before he'd told her the news. "Then Captain Marshall was able to patch me through to Catherine's father. So…" he looked to the two men standing before him. "That's done."

"Mrs. Jacobson called here an hour ago," Danny relayed, still uncertain about his friend's state of mind. "She wanted to let you know she's been in touch with the Naval funeral director at Pearl-Hickman. Catherine's remains are being sent here to Oahu. Her mother said this is where she wanted to be buried. Arrangements are already set for this Sunday at noon."

"Good," Steve nodded. "Chin, what have you heard from Kono?"

"Nothing," Chin Ho replied, genuinely worried about his friend. "We agreed last week that we wouldn't be in touch until we met up with them in Hong Kong. I know she and Adam were going to be staying under the radar, out of cell contact even. I haven't figured out how to reach them yet and tell them…"

"Then she probably hasn't heard anything about the crash," Steve interrupted. "When we get to Hong Kong, nobody says a word about any of this to Kono or Adam. Not until after we settle this Yakuza business and get them home safely. I don't want her distracted from the task ahead. I don't need any of us focused on anything else. Are we all understood?"

"Steve," Danny stepped forward. "Chin and I have already discussed this and… as soon as he can figure out a way to get ahold of Kono we'll tell her we can't be there tomorrow."

"Like hell you will," Steve snapped. "We made a promise to her, Danny. We're not wasting any more time on this. We get Kono out of there and back home as planned. Nothing… none of this is going to change our plans. We leave tomorrow morning, pick up Adam and Kono in Hong Kong and then fly to Tokyo. And we're back by Thursday night exactly as planned."

Danny let out a breath, "You just got back, it's clear you've barely slept… none of us expect you to take on this mission right now, Steve."

"Well I expect it of myself," Steve shot back. "Tomorrow morning I plan to be on that flight, with or without the two of you," he declared before stalking toward his office.

Chin and Danny exchanged a worried glance, obviously concerned about their friend. "What do we do now?" Danny asked.

"Sounds like we go and get Kono," Chin concluded.

000

An exchange of gunfire could still be heard in the distance as Steve holstered his weapon, "How's he doing?" Steve asked.

Kono looked up from her spot on the hard concrete floor of the warehouse. Worry was etched across her forehead, blood staining both of her hands as she held them firmly against the leg wound, "I can't find an exit wound," she replied in a fearful tone. "Bullet must be lodged in his thigh."

Steve went down on one knee beside them. He took a moment to assess Adam's injury. "Doesn't look too serious," he hoped to assure Kono. "I had something similar happen a few weeks ago to my shoulder," Steve recalled how upset Catherine had been that day, the way she'd clung to him like Kono was doing to Adam now. He pulled out the pliers on his pocket knife and looked down at Adam, "Doesn't mean this isn't going to hurt like hell," he warned.

Adam held Kono's hand and they both nodded for him to proceed.

The Navy SEAL used his combat medical training to pry the slug out of Adam's leg with minimal blood loss.

After stealthily capturing Sato from his Tokyo home, they'd questioned him at a secluded warehouse down by the docks, discovering too late that he'd been outfitted with a tracking device. Half a dozen of Sato's men had shown up, resulting in a firefight which hadn't yet ended in their favor. Sato had just been freed, leaving Adam behind with a gunshot wound. Steve began to stitch up the leg with a small sewing kit from his bag when Chin and Danny returned.

"They had too much firepower on their side for us to get Sato back," Danny conveyed.

"But, if I could pick up Sato's tracker frequency…" Chin pulled out his tablet. "They're headed west, away from Sato's home," he reported a few minutes later.

"Toward the airport," Adam noted. "We guessed they might head to my brother's compound near Mt. Aso on Kyushu, if things got out of control."

"They certainly have," Steve finished up the stitches, knowing they weren't pretty and would likely leave a nasty scar. "Chin, I need you to get Kono and Adam to Doris' safe house outside of Kyoto, the one on Lake Biwa. The three of you will stay there until Danny and I get back."

Chin nodded, "How long do we wait?"

"If you don't hear from us in twenty-four hours then get them back home," Steve ordered.

"Boss, no…" Kono stood, leaving Adam for the moment. "This was meant to be a fact finding mission only. I thought we all agreed if this thing got too hot we'd bail, but now you're about to storm a Yakuza stronghold? You can't just…"

Steve cut her off, "If we take out Michael Noshimuri's faction, and end Sato's reign of power, then the Yakuza on Oahu fracture. Everyone scrambles for a piece of the action. Revenge for Michael's death becomes a distant memory to them as they try to build their own empires, or more likely get killed in the attempt," Steve stuffed everything back into his bag and stood, "I'm going to end this, Kono," Steve assured her. "One way or another," he motioned for Danny to follow him.

Kono knew trying to stop the stubborn man would be futile as she watched them leave. She turned to her cousin. "What's going on?" Kono demanded. "Last week we were all in agreement that this wouldn't get messy. So why does the boss sound like he's got some death wish going on?"

"You're right, I don't think he really cares if he lives or dies," Chin took a deep breath as he helped Adam to his feet. He remembered Steve's request and felt bad that he'd already said way more than he should have. "Come on, 'cuz, help me get Adam to the van. We have to get out of here."

She complied, but flashed Chin a cautionary glare. "I'll find out what's going on, you know I will."

000

"Are we even going to discuss this?" Danny finally asked as he daringly looked out the window to see nothing but clouds beneath them.

Steve checked their airspeed and positioning as they approached Kumamoto airfield. It was early morning, a slight pink line on the gray sky horizon as the last bit of sunrise dissipated into daylight. "We've already been over this, Danny. The plan is to destroy Sato and Michael Noshimuri's faction."

"By any means necessary?" Danny questioned. "Don't think I didn't notice the grenades in the back. How you manage to procure small aircraft and grenades anywhere in the world, I probably don't even want to know," his head shook. Steve didn't say anything in return and Danny sighed. "Okay, well do I need to remind you that I have a daughter I'd like to make it home to in one piece…" he instantly kicked himself for the comment. "Jeez, babe, you know I didn't mean…"

"I know exactly what you meant, Danny," Steve saved his friend from feeling uncomfortable. "And I have no intention of leaving Gracie without her father. Your job on this mission is to be a lookout, a warning system for me, nothing more than that. At the first sign of trouble you get the hell out."

Danny scoffed, "And leave _you_ behind?"

"If that's what it takes to facilitate the mission."

"Wow, could you possibly stop speaking like a robot for a second," Danny pleaded. "Is this what you want?"

"What I want right now is for Kono to be safe," Steve responded. "That means I plan to do whatever is necessary to allow her, and the rest of you, to make it back home alive."

The detective's head shook, "No, actually what I meant was, you wanting to be dead. Because that's the way you've been talking lately, Steve. Any means necessary, one way or the other," Danny pointed out. "I know that you must be feeling… hell, I don't know how you're feeling. I only ever lost Rachel to divorce and another man. I seriously can't imagine her being dead," he admitted, "But do you honestly think that's what Catherine would want for you?"

"Don't… talk… about… Catherine."

Hearing each of those words enunciated with vehement authority caused Danny to shiver. He didn't push his friend any further, afraid of the fallout. Neither of them spoke as Steve expertly landed the small plane. They took a jeep from there and wound their way slightly north and east until they made it to Michael Noshimuri's private compound. The main building was wood, three stories at the highest point. In lieu of a castle mote, a thick concrete wall surrounded the building.

"I've got Sato's tracker bleeping from inside," Danny conveyed as he studied the tablet from his safety spot in the jeep. They'd parked it behind a copse of trees and Danny had watched his friend sprint to the building and scale the wall like Spiderman.

"_I have positive ID on a dozen men from Michael Noshimuri's faction inside_," Steve responded over their radio connection.

Danny nodded to himself. He knew that those men's faces were only familiar to them all due to Intel Catherine had gathered for them. But he wasn't about to bring up her name again, at least not until they were all home safe. His eyes kept faithful watch until, "Shit… we've got trouble," Danny announced. "Three guys on approach, big guns, I mean huge…"

"_What's their position?_" Steve asked.

"About to enter from the south," Danny sat forward, his forearms pressed against the jeep's steering wheel.

"_Good_."

That single word from his partner didn't do much to comfort Danny as he remained in the jeep. Seconds ticked by and turned into minutes as he maintained radio silence in case his friend was trapped. Danny was just about to ditch the tablet, the jeep's safety, and screw the whole plan in favor of going after his best buddy when the radio chirped. "_Danny, start the jeep and drive around to the west end of the compound_."

"What?"

"_Drive, Danny!_" Steve's voice grew impatient. "_West!_"

Danny started the vehicle and tried to keep his stomach out of his throat as he hit the gas pedal. "Okay, okay… I'm headed west," he relayed, "What am I doing? Should I be looking for something in particular? Are you done in there? What the heck is…" he trailed off when the ground shook beneath the jeep. Danny could see plumes of smoke billowing upward over the massive concrete wall. "Steve? What the hell have you done?" he kept driving as another explosion rocked the area.

The steering wheel vibrated beneath Danny's hands, the whole jeep shaking as he did his best to keep the vehicle steady. The sight ahead of him was more than he'd been expecting.

He watched as his crazy friend jumped through the glass of a third story window with a roar of flames licking his backside.

"Oh, you crazy son of a…" Danny stomped on the gas pedal.

000

"Is everything okay?" Chin asked when Kono entered the main sitting room. The worry on her face hadn't let up since they'd arrived at the safe house.

The house was modest, a kitchen, sitting area, two bedrooms and one bath. The interior was sparse, typical Japanese columns, open space, curved roof lines and tiled roofing. "Yeah, fine," she took a seat on the edge of a small emerald-green sofa across from him. "Adam is feeling a lot better. I finally got him to eat some soup and some fruit, now he's resting," Kono sighed, eyeing her cousin. "So, are you going to talk to me?" she asked. "It's been more than two days and you've barely said a few words to me."

Chin Ho shrugged, "What do you want to talk about?" He had been intentionally avoiding her, mostly so he wouldn't let anything slip about Catherine, but also to be in touch with his team members. Although the last contact they'd made was more than eighteen hours ago, which added worry to his already troubled mind.

Her eyes rolled. "You know what… Steve," Kono sighed. "And why he was so…"

The exterior side door slid open, startling both of them. They each stood and reached for weapons, ashamed that they'd let their guards down.

"I really hope this joint has some beer," Danny said as he entered the house and dropped his black duffel bag by the door.

Kono exhaled and relaxed a little. She sat her gun down and went to Danny, wrapping him up in a welcoming hug. "Where's Steve?" she asked, taking a step back.

"Danny?" Chin could see the strange look on the man's face.

Danny shook his head, "Well, he's uh…"

"He's been trying to book us five train tickets up to Tokyo so we can get home," Steve announced as he entered the house. He was immediately accosted by Kono, and nearly knocked over by her embrace. Steve winced, trying to cover up how much his right shoulder was hurting. When the woman finally let go he turned a glare upon her and Chin. "It's been thirty-six hours, what are you all still doing here?" he asked.

Chin clasped Steve's hand, "We didn't want to move Adam yet," he blatantly lied.

Steve nodded, "Uh huh."

"What happened with Sato and the others?" The four of them turned at the sound of the man's voice, seeing Adam leaning against a door frame.

"They've been taken care of," Steve replied.

"What does that mean?" Kono asked, though Adam and Chin were clearly wondering the same thing.

Danny flopped himself down on the tiny sofa where Kono had been seated earlier. "It means that Superman here," he aimed a thumb over his shoulder to indicate Steve, "Tossed a few live grenades into the lion's den, jumped out of a three-story window, landed in the back of a moving jeep and also singed his shoulder," Danny concluded. "Now, about that beer…"

"It means you can finally go home," Steve dismissed Danny's beer request as he looked to Kono.

She smiled, touched that her team had done so much for her and Adam. But there was still something going on that none of them seemed willing to talk about. There was sadness behind all of their eyes that caused her heart to ache.

"Now is someone going to tell me what's going on?" Kono pleaded.

000

"_How long since you finished SEAL training?" Catherine asked._

"_We graduated three weeks ago," he replied. "Freddie and I have orders to be in Iraq four days from now. I guess that's one of the main reasons he wanted to be here tonight, find a little comfort before he ships out," Steve hated how ridiculous those words had just sounded. "How cliché are we?"_

"_A bit," she smiled. "Are you scared?"_

"_I don't get scared," Steve responded._

_Catherine could hear an undercurrent of doubt in his tone. He was overly cocky and not at all the kind of guy she imagined falling for. But there was more to him, layers she felt might take years to uncover. "I get scared," she easily revealed. "My dad always says if you head into battle without being scared then you're a fool. He claims that true courage is a matter of being scared and still getting the job done. Using your fear to drive you forward, not hold you back."_

"_I have a feeling I'm going to like your dad," he replied, sifting through a sea of emotions she'd brought forward with her words. "When my mom died I felt like I had to give up being scared. My dad was pretty much a mess, and my little sister, Mary… she was so young. I couldn't be scared. I couldn't let my emotions show because they needed me to be the strong one. I guess I've been doing that ever since," Steve realized._

"_You know what scares me most?" her question was almost a whisper. "Losing my family, the people I love."_

_He wasn't exactly sure why, but Steve felt like there was more to what she'd just said. He found himself nodding, "Me, too."_

000

"Steve?"

He blinked away the memory, trying not to think about how scared she might've been on that flight when it crashed. Unless, as the NTSB agent had suggested, none of them had felt a thing. He pushed those thoughts away as well when he spotted Mary standing in front of him. "You okay?" she asked. "That was a stupid question," his sister immediately chastised herself. "Of course you're not okay," she sighed and glanced around the cemetery. "Why does it feel like we've spent most of our lives in cemeteries like this?"

"You didn't need to be here, Mare," he felt sick to see how miserable she looked.

The bright shiny sun overhead wasn't helping matters, Steve thought as he stood in the cemetery with his dress whites on.

He always liked it best when it rained at funerals, which seemed to be the case more often in movies. Not that any amount of rain could make him feel much worse at the moment.

"She was my friend, too," Mary responded. "She sent me an email about a week and a half ago, the last one… there were pictures of Scott Hamilton and Brian Boitano attached to it. And she mentioned getting to meet Evan Lysacek in person. I was so jealous."

"Who is Evan Lysacek?" Steve asked.

Mary actually laughed a little. "Figure skater, men's Olympic gold medalist in Vancouver 2010," she explained, as if it should've been obvious. "Catherine said the next time I visited we'd re-watch the figure skating coverage from this year. I was looking forward to it. She really seemed to care about me, you know? I would write her these long emails about mom and she always responded and made things seem like they'd be okay. She treated me like a sister," Mary's voice croaked.

Steve pulled his sister in for a hug. He kissed the top of her head. "Thanks for being here, Mare," he whispered, finally realizing his sister was right where she needed to be.

She broke away to walk with Kono and Adam toward the service, but Steve remained rooted to the spot he'd found beneath a small tree. Even though he was trying to stay just out of the melee of people, they all seemed to gravitate toward him, including a teenager who approached with her father. "Steve," Wendy Flay didn't hesitate as she approached him, her hand outstretched in a means to make physical contact with him. They exchanged a quick shake of hands as her father came to stand with them.

"Mike Flay," her father said as he extended his right hand. "I only spoke to Catherine that first night when she took the girls out shopping. Seemed very professional, a nice lady. I know my daughter's certainly thought a lot of her."

Any other time, shaking the hand of one of his favorite singers would've put Steve in a great mood. Today he was just thankful of all the nice things being said about Catherine. Even by those she'd barely known. "I know she cared about your daughters a great deal," Steve glanced around. "Where is Molly?" he looked to Wendy.

"Molly said she didn't want to be here today, I'm sorry," the younger Flay girl replied. "She hasn't let anyone other than me get close to her like she let Catherine, not since our mom died. Molly gets depressed like our mom used to and…"

"Wendy, he doesn't need to know that. We should go sit," Mike Flay was a bit abrupt as he ushered his daughter away.

Steve didn't know the girls very well aside from their one self-defense session, but hearing Wendy talk about her sister caused him considerable concern. His worry for the teenager was momentarily pushed aside when he spotted David Rollins approaching him. Catherine's father looked much older than the last time Steve had seen him. He wasn't sure if it was just the years or maybe the recent loss. Steve stood at attention, a salute given automatically.

"At ease," the Rear Admiral instructed after his own quick salute. "I'm so sorry this is how we all managed to be together again, son," David relayed. "I remember when we met years ago, Catherine was nervous about how I'd react to her dating a Navy man. She was always a little bit spoiled, though, never could seem to say no to her, even when it came to her dating. But she was a good kid. So smart. And funny. Of course I always teased her about being a smart aleck," he chuckled softly. "But she was my little warrior princess…"

He paused a moment and Steve could see he was struggling to find the right words, something more on his mind. "After we lost Ben I think… I think Catherine was always under the impression that she needed to play the role of both daughter and son, probably why she joined the Navy."

"With respect, sir, you're wrong," Steve dared to say. "Catherine didn't even tell me about Ben until a few months ago, but she did tell me the first night we met that she'd joined the Navy because of you. She admired the work you did and she looked up to you. You were her hero, sir."

David took Steve's hand and shook it briefly before he stepped away.

Catherine's mother was there waiting behind her ex-husband. She approached Steve with a motherly hug, hanging on to him for quite a while.

Elizabeth Jacobson stood an inch or two shorter than Catherine, slight and still youthful looking. She was a lot like Steve imagined Catherine looking twenty years in the future.

"I was so glad when she left the Navy," Elizabeth told him. "Please, don't take that the wrong way. I know the Navy is important to both of you. I know she loved it and I admired her commitment. Catherine did great work for the Navy, but I always wanted her to take on something new, different from the path of her father. I guess I also selfishly hoped for some grandchildren one day," she revealed. "Always figured that would be with you, Steven." She took a breath, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I've upset you, haven't I?"

"We're all upset today," he replied. "It's okay, ma'am."

She pressed her hand against his cheek for a moment, her tears flowing freely. "The only thing worse than burying a child, is burying two children."

Steve watched as Catherine's step-father, Ted, took his wife's hand and guided her toward the front row of chairs that were set up graveside.

A man, who looked rather like Ted, though younger, approached. "Hank Jacobson," he introduced with an outstretch hand. "Ted's youngest son… Catherine's step-brother," he did his best to clarify. "My older brothers couldn't get away. Neither of them really gave Catherine much of a chance to… well, we were all adults when our parents married. It was a bit strange for us. Catherine was on a forty-eight hour leave in order to attend the wedding. I remember trying to talk to her that day, commiserate or… well, she wasn't very receptive."

"She could be a bit…" Steve shrugged. "Hard to crack sometimes."

Hank nodded. "I tried again at the few family gatherings she made it to, but Catherine always managed to keep things impersonal. She talked about work mostly. I didn't get a chance to really know her, and I'm sorry for that. About a year ago I learned about Ben's death, Elizabeth mentioned it to me kind of out of the blue. But I guess that's why Catherine kept her distance form me. Maybe I reminded her too much of what life could've been with a brother."

The man quietly took his leave after that.

When young Grace approached, Steve sucked in a breath. She wore a light-blue dress, standing out from the crowd of mourners. He squatted to greet her.

Grace hugged him tightly, arms locked around his neck. "I know you're supposed to wear black to funerals, but I thought Aunty Catherine would like my blue dress better. I wore it special for her. I know it was her favorite color," Grace could see her uncle struggling, trying to say something. "You miss her a lot. I miss her, too, so does daddy. We talked about her for a long time last night. At first it made us cry, but then it made us happy to remember her. We were all lucky because we got to know her.

Steve hugged the girl again. "You're right, Gracie," he whispered to her, "We are."

Danny eyed his friend as Steve stood up. "Catherine's parents asked us all to sit up front with them. Kono and Mary, Adam and Chin are already there."

"I'll join you in a few," Steve said as he remained standing by the tree while everyone else took their seats.

In the second row more friends had gathered in Catherine's honor, Kamekona and his cousin, Wendy and her father, Max and Sabrina. Duke and Grover were there, as well as the Governor. Steve ended up staying by the tree, watching from a distance as the Navy padre spoke a few words. There was one person noticeably missing from the gathering. He scanned the large crowd, but there was no sign of Billy Harrington anywhere.

Steve dismissed the man's absence when Catherine's father stood up to address the gathering.

"When Catherine was ten-years-old I took her on a hunting trip with me," David Rollins began. His uniform was crisp and clean, a stalwart Navy man. But a happy smile was etched across his features as he spoke about his daughter. "Her mother was very against it, but I was sure Catherine could handle it. I taught her how to shoot a bow and arrow on that trip. In just two days she got good enough to hit acorns off a tree stump from a distance of fifty feet."

The man beamed proudly. "On our last day of the trip I thought she was ready for real prey. We came across a rabbit in a small clearing. He was perched out in the open, nibbling on some grass in front of an old fir tree. I encouraged Catherine to take the shot and she did. Her arrow imbedded into the tree about an inch above the rabbit, never even spooked the little guy. I thought Catherine would be disappointed but she turned to me and said…"

David Rollins' smile faltered a little. "I could've killed him, daddy, but then I realized I shouldn't. He's not doing anything wrong. You told me you only had to kill someone when they did something wrong," he recited her words. "For her eleventh birthday I gave her a necklace with a small golden arrow on a delicate chain. I told her she would always be my warrior princess, because she'd learned the most important lesson that day in the woods, which is that a true warrior knows when to fight and when to walk away from a fight."

His eyes fell upon the flag draped over her casket. "I love you, princess," her father concluded.

Steve watched as Elizabeth and David embraced after that. He hated that the first time her parents had been in the same place in years was at her funeral. Steve felt it should've been a holiday, or a wedding, or the birth of their first grandchild. His hands balled into fists as he thought about everything that could've been, that should've been and never would be. It only helped to fuel his anger, and his sense of helplessness.

"Aren't you going to go over there… say something about Catherine?"

He spun around and faced one person he hadn't expected to show at Catherine's funeral. "What are you doing here?"

"I came for Catherine," the woman replied, "No matter how you may feel about me right now, she was… I really liked her," Doris let him know. "I'm so sorry she's gone. Steve, I…"

"Don't, please," he dismissed her sentiments, his irritation growing, "Please do not stand there and give me some version of a, I'm your mother and I know what you're going through sympathy speech. You don't know what I'm going through," Steve's words squeezed past gritted teeth. "You never stuck around for this part. You left, mom. You left dad and me and Mary. You say it was out of love, out of some duty to protect us, but I don't buy any of that. You stay when you love someone," he declared.

"You stay with them," Steve continued. "You stay and you tell them the truth; all the truths, even the ones you think are insignificant. She lied to me, Catherine kept your secret for you but she eventually told me. And I lied to her, too, but I came clean and neither one of us walked away. That's what love is, mom. Not just the good stuff, the easy stuff, but all of it, good and bad. You work through all the bad shit and you come… you come home to each other," he felt tears welling.

"That's what Catherine and I eventually learned," Steve sniffed them back. "We had that in the end, so just… if you can't promise to stay put for good then just leave now and don't bother coming back again," he sighed, shaking his head. "Mary doesn't need you coming and going."

"And what do you need, Steve?" Doris asked.

"I don't need you at all," he replied without hesitation, "Even the truth from you isn't worth it to me anymore."

Doris nodded, turned and walked away.

He was already exasperated enough when he spotted Billy and An walking across the grass, headed toward the service. Steve willed them to keep walking past him, but he wasn't that lucky. "You want to be here for the service, that's fine, Billy. But don't talk to me right now," he warned.

"Steve, I just want you to know…"

"The only thing I want to know from you is, where were you?" Steve snarled.

"My flight back from Russia literally just landed a half hour ago, I had to change and…"

Steve scoffed, "Not today, not now… where were you when Catherine needed you?" he demanded. "You're her partner, Billy. You were a Navy officer, we toured together. You never leave your partner behind. Never!" his voice rose. "Eighteen years in the Navy, she barely needed more than a few stitches. Four months working with you and she winds up dead. She was your partner, Harrington. Where the hell were you?!"

"Commander," Billy tried to appease the man as he squeezed An's hand. "I can't even begin to imagine what you must think of me right now. I can only begin to tell you how sorry I am. Catherine… I wasn't able to be there with her that morning. But I had someone cover for me, and you know Catherine, she said she had it under control. It was just supposed to be her escorting the ambassador and her family to an ice skating event and… I…"

Steve felt his fist connect with Billy's jaw before he even realized what was happening.

"Hey, whoa!" Danny was there to push his friend away from Billy. He'd been worried when Steve hadn't joined them, had been glancing over his shoulder a few times to check on the man. Danny had done his best not to draw attention when Doris had been there, but when he'd seen Billy approach Danny had gotten a bad feeling. "Steve, this isn't the way to…" he could see his friend still fuming. Danny faced Harrington. "You need to walk away."

Billy pressed a finger against his split lip and nodded, taking An by the hand again as they moved closer to the service.

"I can't do this, Danny," Steve grimaced as he flexed his fingers.

"This is Catherine's funeral," Danny replied. "You're in uniform, and punching Billy… this isn't like you. You'd never dishonor Catherine like this."

"Dishonor her?" he scoffed. "Do you even know what's in that casket, Danny?" Steve asked, looking his friend in the eye. "Do you?"

Danny's head shook.

"Not much, not very damn much," Steve let him know. "This isn't what she wanted. Not all of this ceremony. She told me. She stood in this very cemetery months ago and told me this isn't what she wanted. But because I'm not family I have no say in it. Burial at sea, an islander funeral… that's what she wanted, Danny, not this. If she really is dead then she'd be pissed right now about this…" he waved a hand across the air between them. "I can't stay here."

Danny watched his friend walk away. Watched as Steve's whole body flinched when the volley salute began to fire.

But all he could really concentrate on was one thing. One word his friend had used that worried him.

If.

000

Steve pushed the front door open, stepped inside and flicked on a light.

He kicked the door with his foot and it slammed closed. Trooper came rushing in from the back room, obviously startled by the noise. She trotted over to Steve and sniffed at his shoes for a moment then scurried up the stairs. Steve rested his head against the door, not wanting to step another foot forward into the empty house. His eyes closed and he inhaled with difficulty, exhaled with a sob caught halfway up his throat.

The dog's paws gently scritch-scratching against the wooden stairs caught his attention and reopened his eyes.

Trooper was seated in front of him again, something held in her mouth.

His heartbeat quickened as he squatted in front of the canine. Steve grasped the well-worn flip-flops from the dog's mouth. They were his favorite old pair that Catherine kept trying to get him to toss out. As he remained squatted in front of the yellow Labrador, sandals in his hand, Catherine's voice bombarded his thoughts.

_Cowboy was the greatest dog. I taught him how to greet my dad at the door with slippers in his mouth… __Trooper, look who just got home, what do we do when Steve gets home? Do you remember? I'm trying to teach her something, but she hasn't quite grasped it yet._

"She taught you this trick, didn't she?" Steve's heart constricted as he stood, the damned flip-flops falling from his grasp onto the floor. "She taught you to bring me those when I got home," the realization made him sick to his stomach. He stumbled forward, feeling like he couldn't catch his breath. His right hand balled into a fist again and this time he punched the wall, feeling his bones hit wallboard, the crack and crunch. The reverberation caused a hanging picture to wobble and then fall onto the floor.

Steve looked down at it, broken glass crisscrossing the ship. The picture of the aircraft carrier Grace has given Catherine for her retirement.

His knees gave out and he sunk to the floor. Tears fell freely, rolling down his cheek and dropping onto the picture.

Trooper trotted over, her military replica dog tag IDs clacking as she stopped beside him. Her muzzle nudged his chin, rough tongue softly licking at the tears against his cheek.

"What the hell are we supposed to do without her, girl?" Steve whispered.

000

_They continued to sway, even though the music had ended._

"_The dance is over," he finally said, the words whispered in her ear. Steve was amused by the way her head had come to rest against his shoulder. After how prickly she'd been with him upon first meeting, Steve figured he never stood a chance trying to crack her outer shell. But nearly three hours later she was still dancing with him. "We've been dancing without music for about twenty minutes," Steve let her know. "The DJ is gone, everyone's already left."_

_Her head lifted, a small blush rising to her cheeks. "So embarrassing, why didn't you say something sooner?" Catherine let go of him and took a deep breath before turning away. She headed back to retrieve her purse from the table where she'd been seated earlier._

_He followed her._

"_I'm sorry I got all emotional on you earlier," she apologized. "You don't seem the type to have deep meaningful conversations, so… I hope I didn't…"_

"_Dinner," Steve blurted out the word._

_She stared at him for a moment, a smile tugging at her lips. "What was that?"_

"_I have a few more days before I leave for Iraq; have dinner with me tomorrow night?" Steve realized the words sounded more like a demand and he mentally kicked himself for having all the charm of a sea-sickness bag. That wasn't normally the case, but something about her flustered him. "Would you like to have dinner with me?" he finally asked._

_Catherine nodded, "I could do dinner."_

_She'd turned away and was headed for the door before he realized something important. "Wait, I don't even have your number!" he shouted across the dance floor._

_Catherine turned to face him, a slightly mischievous glint in her brown eyes. "Steve McGarrett, you're a Navy SEAL, right? Elite special operations force, trained for combat at sea, in air and on land. I'm pretty confident you'll be able to figure out how to find me if you really want to."_

"_Yes," Steve nodded as she remained standing there, grinning at him. "I'll find you, Catherine Rollins," he promised. "But I have serious doubts about us making it to dinner."_

"_We'll see about that," she winked before disappearing._

000

A heady scent of ocean saltiness wafted through the dark space.

But she couldn't be sure if the smell was real or some distant olfactory memory.

Everything about her existence the last few hours, or very possibly days - she couldn't be sure which – had felt excruciatingly fuzzy. Most of her memory since leaving the aircraft was rather dark, much as the space she was imprisoned at the moment. In fact, only the gentle sway of the ocean rocking the boat was something she could conclude with absolute positivity as being real. It was a sensation she'd come to know quite well over the years.

She rolled onto her right side, the softness of a large plush mattress beneath her.

But the metallic clack of handcuffs clasped about her right hand negated any comfort the mattress could provide.

"Are you comfortable?" a voice asked from somewhere above her.

Her eyes opened wider, taking a long time to focus in the dark room. She was still groggy, half asleep and a bit sick to her stomach. As she sat up and swung both legs over the side of the bed, she felt other sensations return. Pain being the biggest of them all. Her shoulder ached where she'd been stabbed, but it was mostly just a dull discomfort. A non-stop throbbing in her left hand was a sensation that seemed to echo in her head.

"The sedative we've been putting in your food is mild," a second voice spoke into the darkness, "Herbal. It shouldn't be harmful in any way. It might upset your stomach, though. You can tell me if that's the case, I'll change it for you. We want your compliance, we don't want you hurt."

"At least not yet," the first voice added. "Today seemed like a fitting day to begin."

"Begin what?" she managed to squeeze the words past her parched lips.

Even with very little light, she could tell the space was different than the one she'd been in during her last bout of consciousness. The handcuffs were different as well, seeming to have a chain connected, giving her the ability to move around. She immediately stood and took a few steps, her legs a little wobbly. Although her sight still wasn't great, she used her right hand to probe the sore left one. Something thick and soft was covering most of her hand. A bandage, she guessed.

"What…" her lips were dry and cracked as she spoke. She'd eaten and drunk some water, but never enough to make her feel full or hydrated.

A bright light suddenly filled the room, causing her to close her eyes again.

"Compliance," was the only word she heard.

The only good thing about her dulled sense of sight at the moment was that she could tell the difference between the two voices. The first one spoke with a definite hint of malice and doom in every word. The second voice was distinctly meeker, hesitant; maybe even a little remorseful. Knowing she needed to face them if there was any hope of escape, she opened her eyes again. Her eyelids held post at half-mast until she could stand the light.

It was enough visibility to make out a large TV screen built into the wall across from the bed she'd been lying in. In fact, there was now enough light to see much more of the space, which turned out to be rather elaborate. There were gold-hued silky linens on the massive bed in the suite, hard polished cherry wood floors, and even some very opulent fabric window coverings. But she knew all of it was nothing more than a gilded cage.

She finally focused on the screen long enough for recognition to sink in, "You?" she felt like she'd just been kicked in the stomach.

"Hello, Catherine," the figure spoke in a tone she recognized as being the first voice, the irritated one.

Catherine swallowed a lump in her throat. Steve had been so worried that her stalker was Wo Fat, but she'd dismissed his fears. Both of them had even started to think maybe the stalker had given up. She never could've suspected the person on screen, realizing their presence was worse than a sucker punch to the gut. A second person stepped into the frame and her heart sunk further. They were about the last two people in the world she imagined knowing one another. "I don't understand what's going on?"

"This is about justice," the lead voice replied. "For what the McGarrett family took from ours."

"Ours?" that pluralization of the word struck her as odd. She remembered the notes Steve had told her about and recited for her. They'd only mentioned a single reference to a past family wrong, not multiple families - unless he'd remembered wrong, or unless she'd remembered wrong.

She couldn't quite trust anything at the moment, least of all her short-term memory.

Catherine knew she needed to focus on the present if she ever hoped to figure the past out.

The first figure on screen looked vindictive, almost crazed with rage, not at all how she remembered them being before. The other person seemed scared, or nervous, maybe a little of both. And something in the second person's eyes also spoke of remorse. Catherine had a feeling that was the person she needed to try appealing to first. "I'm sure whatever happened it wasn't intentional. Steve is a good person," she defended, "Mary's still just a kid in so many ways. I only met John McGarrett once, but I can't imagine him being behind anything…"

"He is very guilty," the lead person retorted, "But he's not the only one with blame."

"Doris then," Catherine spoke the woman's name with a mixture of feelings ranging from distain to understanding. She still hated how Doris had hurt Steve, John and Mary by lying to them. But part of her understood the woman had done it thinking it was the only way to protect her family.

With a brief nod, the leader smiled softly. "The McGarrett's took important parts of our families from us, split us up. You know what that's like, don't you, losing family? I know losing your brother, Ben, was difficult for you and your mother. It eventually split your family up, didn't it?"

"What do you want from _me_?" Catherine asked, having no desire to drag the precious memory of her dead brother into the matter.

"I have simple terms. I want the McGarrett family to suffer a loss like I suffered. I want them to know that their actions have consequences, to know they are responsible for what will happen to you here. Our notes to Steve McGarrett were not very well thought out; a bit emotional, I have to admit. One even promised you might be returned at some point. But our families were never afforded that same courtesy," the person spat with venom born of revenge.

"You're messing with the wrong people," Catherine replied. She knew it was probably useless at best to argue with someone so dead set on vengeance. But the one thing she truly believed in was the power of her friends and family, "I've been here for days, haven't I? That means Steve knows I'm missing. He and Five-0 are probably already searching for me. I know what that team is capable of. It's doubtful they'll stop until they find me, dead or alive."

The person on screen actually laughed, though it was a mirthless sound, "You have no idea how true those words are."

"This won't work," Catherine responded. "Using me against the McGarrett family won't work. I'm not family to them."

"Nice try, Catherine. But I know you don't believe that any more than I do," the lead abductor scoffed. "You're very much a part of their family, the McGarrett family and the Five-0 family. There's a Hawaiian word for it, 'ohana, isn't that right?" the figure nodded with confidence. "Although… maybe you are right after all. There is another way we could make this plan work. Mary McGarrett, Steve's little sister… oh, she would certainly make a very good…"

"No!" Catherine immediately protested, seeing in the person's eyes that they'd been expecting exactly that reaction from her. "Don't you dare touch Mary," she growled, knowing they'd gotten her off that plane somehow, which meant they could probably have Steve's sister under their command even easier. She had faith that Mary and her friends back on Oahu would help Steve get over her loss eventually, given enough time. But Catherine knew there was no way he could come back from losing his little sister.

"Does that mean you agree to stay with us?" the person asked, a small smile upturning their lips, "Do you agree to do everything we ask of you?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "But it doesn't matter, Steve will find me," her confidence remained, "You can't stop him from looking for me no matter what I agree to."

"Actually," the voice on screen wore a confident grin, "I know for a fact Steve won't find you, because he's not looking for you. No one is looking for you."

Catherine had learned enough during her time in the Navy to understand how a captor tried to get prisoners of war to talk. Prey on their vulnerabilities, take away everything they held dear; make them think there was no hope, "You're lying."

"No, I can assure you I'm not," they didn't let up. "No one is coming for you because they've already buried you, Catherine."

"You can't bury someone who's not there," she scoffed.

The figure smiled again. "A part of you was; the one small part I took to make your death real."

Finally remembering the throb of her left hand, Catherine looked down at it. The light from the TV monitor was enough to see the bandages wrapped around her fingers and wrist. She could feel sensation in her hand, bend her wrist even, but something wasn't quite right. "What did you do?" Catherine tore at the bandages, unraveling them as swiftly as she could.

"You really should leave that," the somewhat kinder voice warned. "You haven't had time to heal fully. The herbs should help, though, as well as eating and rest."

Realization slowly slipped across Catherine's surprised face as she made it down to her flesh. It hurt to wiggle her fingers but she made the effort, even though it was plain to see one was missing, "You cut off a finger?" for some reason that seemed odd to her, "Who will believe I'm dead based simply on a finger?"

The TV screen blinked, the two figures replaced by a news broadcast.

Catherine watched and listened to all of the details about the un-survivable airplane crash. Tears pricked her eyes as the monitor revealed her captors again. She thought about the ambassador and her family, her young son and daughter. "Why would you do that? How could you? You… I trusted you," her words were aimed at the leader.

"I needed it to be convincing, didn't I?" the voice asked, though clearly not intending for her to respond. "And given the crash circumstances, I only needed a small bit of solid DNA that not even the esteemed Dr. Max Bergman could dispute. Face it, Catherine; your life has been forfeit. It now belongs to me… to us," a hand was waved between the two of them on screen. "Your mother was very distraught at your funeral, as was your father. They believe it. Now you must accept it. You're dead."

The screen went black, leaving Catherine in the dark again.

Seconds later a door opened, light streaming into the room. A man walked toward her, no one she recognized. He was tall and wore a gun against his hip.

He didn't speak as he pulled the weapon, silently warning her not to make a move against him. He used his free hand to un-cuff her wrist before backing out of the room.

Another few seconds passed before the window blinds began to retract. Three sides of the space were adorned with several large windows.

Catherine rushed toward one of them, not caring how much the sunlight hurt her weary eyes. The view outside was of a clear blue sky and an equally blue ocean, nothing but water in every direction she turned, no spec of land in sight. "You'll gain new freedoms a little at a time," a voice filled her room again, "As long as you continue to obey."

She watched as several men dressed in dark suites roamed the exterior of the boat, all of them carrying weapons.

"Gilded cage, indeed," Catherine muttered to herself.

Another man entered the room and sat down a platter of food. When he left Catherine didn't care how upset her stomach had been before, she was extremely hungry and thirsty.

There was a water pitcher, a plate of rice, chicken and steamed vegetables. And, oddly enough, a bowl of mixed nuts.

The only utensil offered was a set of very blunt-tipped chopsticks.

But it was the slight of those walnuts and almonds that caused her to finally break down.

000

"_I'll find you, Catherine Rollins," he promised. "But I have serious doubts about us making it to dinner."_

"_We'll see about that," she winked before disappearing._

000

"Wakey, wakey, Rip Van Winkle… and your little dog, too," Danny joked as he attempted to shake his partner awake.

"Go away," a muffled voice called from the bed.

Danny knew more details about his partner's life than he sometimes wished. He knew that Catherine and Steve had their own sides to the bed. It was pretty evident from the two nightstands. Steve's housing a lamp, cell phone and a watch at the moment. Catherine's was covered with a lotion bottle, a hairbrush, lip gloss, diamond-stud earrings and a book. As Danny glanced around the room he spotted a lot of things he figured to be Catherine's, and it was clear Steve was sleeping on her side of the bed.

The detective gave Trooper a soft pat as he sighed, worried about his friend living in a sanctuary dedicated to Catherine. "Come on, Steve-0, time to get up. I filled Trooper's water and food dishes for you so all you need to do is throw some clothes on. I've got coffee and super sugary pastry in the car, and I'm not afraid to use them."

Steve kept his face pressed against Catherine's pillow, upset that her scent was beginning to fade. "Go away," he mumbled again.

"Nope, sorry," Danny sighed, feeling a little bad for being so pushy. "Can't do that, babe. I have orders. And as your self-appointed grief fairy godfather, I command you get your bony butt out of bed. Isn't that how they do it in the Navy? Rise and shine, soldier!"

"Danny, you suck as a drill Sargent," Steve finally lifted his head.

"Get up anyway; we have somewhere to be," Danny said.

"Governor gave me three weeks off, Danny, more if I need it. It's only been a week," he protested even as he sat up and leaned over to scratch behind Trooper's left ear.

"I know all that, but this isn't about work," the detective replied. "This is about 'ohana," Danny clarified with a serious tone. "I'll be in the car waiting for you."

Danny sat for a good long while, but he was glad when Steve finally arrived as instructed. He knew his friend was in a bad way when Steve didn't even balk at being regulated to the passenger seat. He was just grateful Steve had gotten dressed, and even showered. "So, how has Trooper been coping with Catherine's loss?"

"She's a dog, Danny. She eats, sleeps and poops. She's fine," Steve conveyed.

"I doubt that," Danny knew that animals grieved as much as humans, sometimes more. Although he wasn't sure anyone could grieve more than Steve was at the moment. "And how is your eat, sleep and poop routine going?"

Steve sighed, looking out the window. Silence filled the space between them as Danny drove them. They arrived at a small stretch of beach that not many people knew about. It was mostly secluded, the water calm and a shade of turquoise that almost seemed unnatural. A stand of trees lined the parking area and they spotted Grace as she came running through them. "Uncle Steve, you're here," the girl wrapped her arms around him.

"Gracie, what's wrong?" Steve was alarmed, recalling what Danny had said about family.

"Nothing's wrong," Grace looked up at him with tender brown eyes. "I heard Danno talking to Uncle Chin the other day about something you said, how Aunty Catherine didn't want the kind of funeral we had for her last weekend," the girl took Steve's hand and guided him down to the beach, Danny following. They made their way through the trees and emerged onto white sand. "Danno said she'd wanted this," the girl waved a hand at the ocean. "So I asked if we could do that for her, but mostly for you."

The beach wasn't the most beautiful thing Steve saw there, though. His family was - Chin and Leilani, Kono and Adam, Mary, Danny and Grace, even Max and Sabrina.

All their surf boards had been aligned in the sand, each of them adorned with a flower lei.

Kono moved down the line, placing a lei around everyone's neck until she reached Steve. She kissed his cheek softly as she positioned his lei. "For Cath," she whispered.

He followed his family into the water, paddling out to a distant spot off shore. They formed a rather small circle and held hands. Steve turned his eyes upon the youngest member of their family. "Grace reminded me the other day that I should be glad for the time I had with Catherine," he didn't bother swiping the tears in his eyes. "I remember when I was a little boy, asking my dad why people had to die. He told me death was only of the flesh, that the dead were always with us in memory and in our hearts," Steve conveyed.

One by one they gently placed their lei atop the water, setting them free in Catherine's honor.

When they returned to shore, Danny kept a close watch over his friend. He detected a small lump beneath Steve's dark blue t-shirt that he hadn't noticed before.

"What is that?" Danny asked, pointing at the chain around Steve's neck.

Steve pulled it free and revealed the sapphire ring hanging on a chain along with one of Catherine's Navy ID tags. "I know what you're probably thinking," he guessed. "Sam's story was just that, a story. I should accept that Catherine is gone, and wearing this ring won't bring her back. We buried all we could," Steve took a breath. "And Grace thoughtfully organized this ceremony for me today," he sighed. "But she… Catherine didn't walk away after that first dance, Danny. I won't walk away either."

Danny's brow bunched, "You lost me at the end there."

"I'm talking about the beginning, Danny," Steve took a deep breath. "The night Catherine and I met we danced for hours. You know I don't dance. When have you seen me dance?"

"Never," Danny was able to answer quickly.

"And we talked," Steve remembered, "I'd almost forgotten all the personal things I told her that first night. Later, after she was gone and I was alone in my bunk trying to fall asleep, it felt like she was still there with me. I don't mean that in any sort of dirty way," he stressed. "But all I could think about was how good she'd smelled, how right she'd felt in my arms while we danced. The teasing honesty of her words, her smile… it seemed like we were still dancing."

"You're not making much sense, babe," Danny pointed out.

He eyed the ring again, "It just feels like our dance isn't over yet," Steve concluded.

* * *

**To be continued…**


End file.
